Your Hair is Amazing

As a guy I don't really 'get' hair. For those who don't know what I look like... my head is actually shaved; and every two weeks I whip out the automatic hair clipper, set it to option three, and shorn my own hair in the bathroom as my mother shrieks, "you have to do this here? Now?" About the most exciting thing to have happen to my hair recently was the purchase of a CORDLESS hair trimmer. I spurged ($60.00) on a fancy Phillips machine, thinking that I save about $25.00 a haircut anyway. The new machine is also, according to the good folks at Phillips, "Lubed for life" and let me tell you something dearest readers; we should all be so lucky.

For girls, however, especially those of the Faux Hill bent, hair is a completely different story. For the Faux Hillary, hair, hair care and conversations about hair are so important that hair will probably be the topic of the next great Faux Hill novel - The Great Hairsby. I realized this insipid obsession with hair while eating lunch with Papa Len at The Restaurant. The Restaurant - aka United Baker's - is rather mediocre dairy restaurant over populated by Jewish grandmothers who live in the surrounding neighrbourhood but who's children have decamped a couple of blocks south to much more affluent Faux Hill. Yet every weekend much of Faux Hill migrates five minutes north for a rather mediocre omelet with Bubbie and Zaidie.

Papa Len and I ended up commiserating about my love life over a bowl of split pea soup as two of the Faux Hill's finest ended up next to us.

The conversation transpired as follows.

"Brad and I were just in Restoration Hardware for three hours. I'm schvitsing."

"Ew. What did you buy?"

"Nothing we were just looking at linen."

Silence. Then Exclamation!

"OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU HAIR."

"I just got it highlighted and layered."

"Your hair is AMAZING."

And suddenly... I realized why Papa Len started buying the split pea soup in takeout form. Her hair may be amazing, but I had lost my appetite.