It's Saturday March 26th, 2022 and this is "good hair day".
Forgive me for my harsh attitude toward it, but my hair — more so my inability to control my own back when I had some has left me a bit bitter where I should not hold bitterness.
I have never experienced that element of legend and lore known as the "good hair day".
For I was going bald in high school, knew it, and was forced by my father to wear the most screwed up hair styles because he equated short hair with 'human decency' and I would arrive at school and comb my hair in a reverse direction in some misguided attempt to appear as though I had more hair.
All this resulted in was an even poorer experience than that already forced upon me.
My entire childhood was punctuated with "the right way, the wrong way, and the navy way".
Sometimes good intentions have bad results.
So for quite a while now I have suffered male pattern baldness and those slings and arrows secondary to assholes thinking I exercise control over it or perhaps I'm some genetic defective when 60% of men on the planet suffer the same condition.
My life was never my own because others thought they needed to direct those events over which I should have been able to maintain control.
Suffice it to say that there are times when others should simply stay out of personal decisions.
Happy good hair day. I don't know what good hair is because I never had any.
I make all attempts not to be a crybaby about it though. I suppose I'm satisfied to just remain a whiner.