Hairy Situation

Written By: Donna Rhodes | Issue: April 2025

My friend, Frances, and I were Naired at birth – barely a hair on our heads.

Our friends were all blessed with Rapunzel manes – beautiful heads of hair.

We hated them, in a nice kind of way, of course.

If there were fairy tale dwarf names for our pitiful hair, we’d be Limpy and Skimpy, though Wimpy is more accurate.

After trying conditioners, ointments, vitamins, (and braiding extensions to our three existing follicles) nothing was gonna cut it.

In an effort to gloss over her situation, Frances gave her topper a trendy name: Stringy-chic. “It’s a legit style!” she insisted. Yeah, right.

My hair was beyond re-branding. I told people I was accosted by a hairrorist. I tried to be cool like Frances. I said, “My hair isn’t stringy. It’s just erupting with awesome.” People looked at me with squinty eyes. No one bought it.

Once I told Frances that we are evolutionarily-advanced. We no longer need hair, so we are the vogue of the future. Granted, the naked-mole-rat trend isn’t what I hoped for.

I read about chia pits (ginormous underarm hair). Perhaps we could plant some chia seeds on our scalps. They wouldn’t last long. Plus we’d be walking sprout-salads. Then again, if a cute guy came by, I might offer a sprig or two.

But alas, Frances and I don’t even have underarm hair, and unless we could transplant Andy Rooney’s eyebrows to our pates, we don’t have any luck with eye-hair either. And nose-hair is totally out-of-the-question.

I asked my doctor about our lifelong pitiful hair. She said, “Perhaps you have Hairpes …There is no cure.”

We are doomed to buzz-cutting and scalp-tattooing. We considered begging Dolly Parton to let us join her pre-worn Dragzilla wig charity…if it even existed.

Wait a sec! Why not vacuum up my cat’s spring shed and, for a buck, glue it to a skullcap. There would be little toupee.

Gotta go! If this works out, and I have hair left over, I’ll shave you some!