Me and Lulu
"You know," I started on the phone Wednesday evening, "I've been giving this a lot of thought."
I can say stuff like that to Vix because she's been known to phone me saying, "So, I was thinking about your hair on my drive to work today..."
My problem was that my hair was too normal: a standard chin-length razor-cut bob with soft bangs that to me screamed "low maintenance." And while I am fairly low maintenance emotionally, I don't wish for my hair to yell out "soccer mom" in its wash-and-wear, falls-perfectly-into-place utilitarian functionality.
I also recognize my follicular limitations: my hair does not bend, so anything requiring wrapping it around a heated implement would go horribly awry. Also, I am in that lucky minority of the non-curlyheaded: a hairdryer does not make my hair straighter or smoother; it merely dries my hair in two minutes. Therefore, I don't really need it. Good thing, because I am damn lazy about "fixing up."
While presenting my case to Vix, I told her that 1) I don't want to look like a low-maintenance soccer mom. 2) My hair's going to do what it does anyway, so why fight it? and 3) In my opinion we should "give me more bangs, Louise Brooks the fuck out of my hair and see what happens."
So here's what happened.
Turns out we look a lot alike, me and Lulu.