I Just Do Not Care....

Really, why should I care what the hair on the back of my head looks like??  I can't see it, therefore, it should not matter.  Let's think about this...if you're with me, than you're probably standing next to me blabbing something at me or listening to me blab, right?  If you're behind me, then you are probably someone I don't know in which case, I don't care if you like how my back-of-the-head hair looks..truly I don't.  

This is not a new development for me.  I've always been prone to ignore the back of my head.  When I was younger and a curling iron was the hair torture tool of the day, I curled my long, straight hair each day, hoping there would be a miracle and it would somehow "remember" to stay curly. (alas, it never did).  From my front view in the mirror, I'd be thinkin' I looked pretty cute and then I'd go upstairs and mom would say, "you missed the back."  (as in the ENTIRE back).  ugh.  In my defense, I was cursed with bad height genes.  With my challenged height comes challenged arm length...for God's sake I can't reach the back of my head in the way necessary to wield the curling iron.  Mom solved this dilemma for me....can you say perm?  Don't laugh, it was the 80's..it was fine.  

Now it's a few decades later and the back of my head is still the bane of my existence.  The curling iron has long since been put away (or sold at a garage sale for 50 cents) and there is a new duo of tools causing my angst.  The hair dryer and the round brush.  For those who are unfamiliar, let's just say that a round brush was invented sole-y to get tangled in your hair.  This leads to 2 choices, take untold hours and carefully pry each hair out of the brush or just grab scissors and lop off said chunk of tangled hair (not recommended)..oh and the 3rd choice, come out of the bathroom weeping, holding the cursed brush and ask someone who loves you (boyfriend, child, mom, sibling) to "PLEASE HELP ME GET THIS OUT!!"

This topic is on my mind because of this weekend.  I had a VERY important appointment Saturday morning in the form of catching a train to the International Chocolate Show in NYC (hey...it was important to me...don't judge).  Anyway, I was in the bathroom drying my hair with a new round brush whose bristles are a bit too close together.  As I contemplate being done, I hear my mother in my subconscious saying, "what about the back of your head??"  So I struggle to reach around with the brush in my right hand, dryer in my left and attempt to..well...do something.  I go to move the brush THROUGH my hair and this is where the trouble started...the brush wasn't GOING anywhere! I remained calm and thought "NO! NO! NOT THIS!! NOT NOW!!!" (ok, I wasn't so calm...don't judge)  I thought to wake Mark up to help, or maybe just go to the train station, brush dangling from my head. I was going to New York after all...once I was in the city, would they even notice my accessory???  Finally, I wrestled that blasted thing from my locks and as I breathed a sigh of relief, I realized the back of my hair was still damp.  As I raised the brush up to try again I suddenly had this thought: I have never paid attention to the back of my head...why start now???