"You know why I'm not getting my hair cut, right?" my wife asked me the other morning as we stood in front of our shared closet, each trying to figure out what to wear.
I looked at her, my eyebrows raised in a question mark.
"Because then we'd have the same hair," she said, the silent "duh" remaining unspoken.
I laughed and told her she was ridiculous.
She continued to avoid making a hair appointment.
My wife has thick, curly hair that hasn't been touched by a brush for more than a decade. I've always loved her curls for their wildness. They're a bit all over the place, and it suits her. Her favorite way to wear it is chin length, a little stacked in the back, but right now it's grown out to her shoulders.
Mine has, for the bulk of our almost-8 years together, been straight by virtue of blow drying and flat ironing and generally taming into place. I've always known that I have some curl, but I wasn't sure how to work with it. It's been long and short and everywhere in between, always a bit of a hassle. And then a series of good hair events led me to my perfect hair.
Joy of joys.
But without realizing it, I walked straight into a situation no less horrible than the
Because apparently my perfect hair is also my wife's perfect hair.
And I'll be damned if I'm going to give it up.
I mean, let's take a little lesson from our friends in Beverly Hills - they both looked awesome in that dress (at least by 90s style standards). After a little scuffle, Brenda got busy with Dylan, and Kelly got crowned spring princess. There was room at that dance for two high school hotties in off the shoulder black and white dresses. They lived it up and both went home happy.
So to my wife I say
There is room in this relationship for two hotties with perfect hair.
Let's live it up, 90210 style.
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