HATING HATHEAD

Thanks in part to the ridiculously low temperatures this morning, I opted to wear a hat.

Now mind you it's a pretty stylish hat, a black, loosely knitted cap with fur all around the edge for a dash of something something. If I ever go to Moscow, I'll definitely wear it and go by the name Natasha. That's what someone at work was calling me.

The downside of this "I wanna be a fashionista winter statement" was that soon as I took the blasted thing off, my hair stood up on end and, well, looked like most cats do when they freak themselves out over something or other.

So in order to avoid looking like a Glamour Don't (you know, those pictures in the magazine in which a woman wearing something totally atrocious has a large black bar across her face so nobody recognizes her) I ended up putting the hat back on while I sat down to work.

Except I couldn't stand it. Not for longer than say, five minutes at a stretch.

I hate putting ANYTHING on my head. I hate headsets, headphones, wigs, fake hair pieces, hats that are too tight. Garrottes, that's what these items remind me of, and my scalp will agree.

Current fashions, however, are not on my side. I can't tell you how many people I see comfortably wearing a baseball cap or a woolen hat indoors for the duration of the day, even in sometimes hot weather. It makes no sense to me.

I went out with someone who used to wear baseball caps year round, a curiousity considering he had a marvelous head of hair that most men would have showed off proudly. But then again, the whole thing was doomed from the start -- turns out there wasn't much underneath that hair except a hamster going around in a wheel. But that's another story.

Amen, and pass the mustard.