So This Is What Daughters Are Made of
My son is 25 and married. My daughter is 21 and in college. My daughter who I shall refer to as "L" (simply because she'd kill me if I used her real name or initial) is home for the summer. The girl is brilliant, with a sarcastic streak unlike any I've encountered and constantly seeking new ways to make me part with my money. I have no ideas where these qualities originated. From her father I'm sure.
L has been bugging me for weeks to let her cut my hair. I admit I have let it get far too long. This morning when I stepped out of the shower I was horrified by the glowing patch of white I saw reflected in the mirror. Upon closer inspection it wasn't the bald spot I at first feared, only more gray hair. (I was also wearing a towel when I glanced at the mirror in case you were worried about what I was about to reveal). Since I obviously can't put off my appointment with Miss Clairol for much longer I decided it was time to face her shears. I'm also cheap, in case I haven't mentioned that.
First of all, I said she could cut 1 inch. Then it became 2. L ended up cutting off 4 inches of my bleached golden (dry & damaged) locks. At least I have some hair left, just that much less to color I suppose. And I am paying this kids tuition so I should get some return on my investment. No, she's not going to cosmetology school. L is an accounting major. What does that have to do with cutting hair you may ask. Nothing, absolutely nothing. In her words, "I can do anything I put my mind to. And I can do it exceptionally well. Don't you know that by now?"
Someone switched babies with me at the hospital. I know it.