Monday, May 17, 2010
"What's this for?" I ask my daughter, though I have my suspicions.
"I'm thinking about styling my hair for the prom," she says, "an updo possibly, or curled and gathered at the back."
Except for the picture on the front cover, there's not a single style either one of us likes. For that matter, there's not a style in there we've ever seen on anyone else. This book isn't for girls, it's for aliens.
"What if I went to a salon?" my daughter asks.
Has she been reading my hairpisodes, I wonder? "It'll cost us," I say.
"$75, or $85 if I get a master stylist."
I give her my listen-and-listen-good stare. "One day you'll be out on your own, and reality will strike. Then you'll realize how much all of this is costing."
My daughter smacks her forehead. "Oh, give me a break. Prom is not reality."