Don King Issues

Sunday, January 26, 2014
My hair has always been a source of frustration and consternation for me.  Both my brother and I have what we call the "horse hair" gene - directly passed to us from Wanda Lee and our Dad.  Our Gram (Wanda Lee) had coarse, curly and I daresay wild Wanda hair.  My Dad's hair is just as course, but straight as string and thick, thick, thick.  Kyle and I got a mixture of the two creating some mutant cross-breed hair, that is largely unmanageable and difficult for me (my brother's solution = buzzing it off) to maintain. 

In the desert I had trouble with my hair and the endless static and the electric light show displayed at night when all the lights were out.  Since moving to the island of misfit toys, I have found that although I am almost 40 having had this mutant hair my whole life, I really haven't a CLUE how to manage my hair.

I have tried a multitude of "hair products" that are said to work in humidity.  Provided below is evidence of the struggle:

There were already a couple of lessons that the women of my family have learned - unfortunately cheap hair products do nothing for horse-hair like ours.  Fisherman thinks that it is hilarious because each morning I come out of the bathroom and issue a product proclamation:

"product number 231 - pronouncing it either - possibilities, epic fail, or even sometimes, WHAT THE HECK"

The last part of the hair hilarities is that there is no place on the island to get a haircut - not even for the men.  Most of the time the men, like Fisherman, cut their own, or wait until they "go to town" (Anchorage).  For me, stop number one upon landing on our first outing off the island, was for a fountain soda -  stop number 2, the salon.  Please believe NOTHING barring certain death, would have interfered with that appointment.

Finally, as I have mentioned before, the weather here is lovely, which does nothing but add an entire new layer of complication.  If I manage to emerge from the bathroom post-grooming, looking halfway decent, I then MUST put on a coat, hat, and hood to shield me from the consistent hurricane that we live with here on Sand Point.  So, long story, short, I have looked like smashed-butt since I stepped off the plane in August.

Yours in horse-hair frizziness,


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