I like my hair.

But sometimes I'm afraid to. You know, that old superstition that if you love something a lot, God will think it's vanity and take it right away? I do. I grew up in the Catholic church and they have a ton of rules against feeling good about a lot of things. Better you should wear a nice brown robe.

I know. Totally amish sounding, right?

"Can't we all just be plain?!"

I just want to know what the line is. You know? What do you have to say to get God pissed so that he takes your assets away. Where is the vanity section of being happy? Cause I don't want to spend my life crossing my fingers, spitting ptui ptui, or saying God forbid...when all I am, is happy about a good hair day.

That I happen to have a lot.

Because I have great hair.

Fingers crossed. Spitting. God forbid.

Or?!?!? Do you lose something else that you weren't grateful enough for, while you were crowing about your hair? Do you wake up, look in the mirror and are about to remark about how even bed head looks good on y--...and you suddenly realize you have no idea who that IS staring back at you in the mirror.

Think God takes your mind over your hair?

I think sometimes he might. There are times I look in the mirror and have no idea who that is staring back - cause last time I looked I looked like Farrah Faucet (see photo above).

I really want to preserve the few things that I think I got going on. And if that means never mentioning how grateful I am to have great hair - or to pooh pooh those who compliment my mane - or to self-denigrate (Oh yeah! Thanks. I got got great hair...everywhere...hahaha...thanks Mom and Dad...haha) - I will.

Because while everything else about me physically is slowly making its way to the ground - everything above my ears is good.

Thought I would pass a little randomness your way while I wait for the healthcare bill to implode at the hands of the nay-sayers. Some of whom have really great hair. But no minds. Which is what made me wonder in the first place.

Do you still love me?