Hair Stuff

I had a surprising conversation with TRQ over lunch the other day.  She looked at me and said, "I like your hair."

Basically, TRQ, who is the Queen of Hair and used to give home perms to the entire neighborhood when I was growing up, has often not been onboard with my personal hair choices.  And she has especially been displeased with my decision to go gray because the women in our family do not go gray.  Going gray means you have given up on life.  Going gray means you might as well put on a housecoat and some slippers and sit in front of a TV with a bunch of cats in your lap for the rest of your life.

But wow.  She looked at me and said, "I like your hair."

Then she took a  dainty bite of her fried calamari as if nothing earth-shattering had just happened.