Bad hair day

It's been a weird couple of days. On Friday I had two moles removed - from my breasts. So I gave myself permission to take it easy. Saturday I luxuriated in doing not much of anything, save from catching up on reading, and getting used to my new Mac laptop (that's right!). This morning I had to rip myself from the lazy funk to greet my aunt who arrived early with the curtains that she had custom made for my bedroom, and we hung those quickly before I ran off to an annual Easter celebration.

So because I was in a hurry, and am still getting used to six stitches in a very sensitive area, I slacked off a bit today and hurriedly threw my hair into a barrette. Sure, not my best look, but who cares, right? It's a Sunday in Richmond, Virginia for Christ's sake.

Well, apparently people do. Tonight while paying my tab for a few beers after listening to my friend's band play, I got this little unsolicited comment from a gay man while passing me his business card -

"Honey, I can help you with that hair."

My feeble stammering about how I swear it usually looks better than this did little to wipe the smug look of of his aging face.

I guess I'm passing the age where I can get by on my charm alone. That, or this town is becoming tougher by the minute. Either way - gulp.