Decades ago, I played with a three-way mirror while my mother tried on dresses. It seemed magical to study my profile and the curly back of my head. While standing in my Mary Janes and appraising my rear view, I must have thought, “Good enough.”
I always thought the back of my head resembled this self-portrait painted in college.
Flash forward years and many hairstyles later:
While leaving the physical therapist last summer, the receptionist practically leapt over the counter and tackled me. “You have a hole in your head!” She shouted. Everyone in the waiting room looked up from their cell phones and magazines. They shook their heads in disgust.
“What do you mean?” I replied. Continue reading