Diagnosis: Bad Hair Day

Diagnosis:
I woke up today suffering from an extreme case of Hair-Impairment. In laywoman’s terms, that would be: Really Bad Hair Day.

History:
What happened? I went to bed with my hair looking perfectly fine. There I was last night, sleeping and minding my own business. Then I woke up today, and oh my God! I had turned into a blonde Morticia with droopy overgrown locks sans any whiff of body (picture the “before” in a slow-motion Vidal Sassoon commercial). They're all grown out like an old Tressie doll from the 60s whose just-like-real-life locks (if hair looked like plasticized yarn, that is) have been yanked on too hard by a two-year-old who skipped her nap.

Possible Antidotes:
As I see it, baseball cap, paper bag, or burka.

Rx:
Waiting to hear from the emergency hairstylist-on-call. Wish me luck.

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