Sometimes, I just want to let my hair down and be carefree. Not that I have much hair to let down these days. But in my dreams, I have long, flowing hair like Fabio. Some guys just have all the locks, and I’m left wondering if I can even believe it’s not butter. But since that fantasy isn’t coming true anytime soon, I’ve got to find other ways to let my hair down—or what’s left of it.
Maybe I’ll start by following the shampoo bottle directions to the letter: lather, rinse, repeat—forever. There’s no better way to disappoint my hair than to keep washing it into oblivion. And, honestly, I’m halfway there already. I get so lost in my deep shower thoughts that I forget whether I’ve rinsed and moved on, or if I’m still lathering up for the first time. My hair must be begging for mercy at this point.
Or perhaps a bold, new haircut is in order—something completely outrageous that screams, “I’ve given up.” A bunhawk, maybe? You know, a man bun with a mohawk twist. It would pair nicely with my disbelief over butter substitutes. I could even go to one of those hip barbershops where a barbershop quartet serenades you with commercial jingles. I’d love to hear them belt out the tune for “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” while I’m getting my new ‘do. That’s how I know my hair would really appreciate me.
By now, my hair is probably frazzled and ready to wig out. But if things get a little too hairy, I’ll just brush it off. No need to feel sorry for my hair—it had it combing. After all the times I woke up with bedhead that looked like I’d fought a wind turbine, it’s only fair that my hair finally toupees for its crimes.