November 11, 2020
"I flatiron my hair too," I say to him. I haven't seen him in a while and his hair is about the same length and color as mine. I think we're matched in shininess too. It's clear he takes this as a positive observation, a compliment, and I don't give him any reason not to, but inside I'm cringing, because he's trying so damned hard to look like a "rocker", even in his late forties, and yes, he's an accomplished musician, but this is a look that needs updating if not downright abandonment. I want to silently hand him scissors.