I AM a mushroom. And as much as I like Schubert, I’ve no desire to emulate his appearance.*

Like I said (in reference to my Yeti eyelids), you start certain things and then you have to keep them up. When my hair was long and unkempt, no one noticed when and if I ever trimmed it. But now – I’m afraid that that my disheveled short hair needs upkeep; it is gradually increasing the circumference of my already inordinately HUGE noggin by leaps and bounds with a phenomenon, for lack of better terms, I’ll just call “unfortunate fluff-i-tude.” (“Fluff-i-tude” is vaguely related to longitude and latitude, except, of course, that it’s a unit of measurement for hair.)

I’ve said it before, my ablutions were fairly low-maintenance; it’s true – I ALWAYS brush my eyebrows morning AND night and usually wash my feet before going to bed – I cannot abide scruffy eyebrows and dirty footprints in the bed. Other than that, though, I was very “wash and go.” Now I’m going to have to get regular haircuts, wax and/or pluck my eyebrows all the time, AND figure out what to do with my dye-job “roots.” Add this to the regimen of “anti-aging” lotions and potions I’ve started accumulating for the crow’s feet, the laugh lines, the neck wrinkles and the under-eye bags, and we’re just getting ridiculous.

The one positive thing about the “fluff-i-tude” and my dye-job roots is that I now have clear proof that my hair actually grows; I wasn’t sure it grew much at all before I could see these obvious signs.

*Schubert’s friends affectionately called him Schwammerl, which means “little mushroom.” Look it up if you don’t believe me. I’m not gonna spoon-feed you links for everything, damn it! Ahem. Sorry.