HAIR - Another Best Thing About Married to a Transsexual

Hair is a tricky thing, isn't it? I've always had bad hair, so it's a good thing I don't have to look at it. I generally swear at it for about 20 minutes each morning and then give up and get on with my life. I figure if someone cringes when I come in, I failed worse than usual. Okay, it isn't quite that bad, but it IS fine, flyaway, thin, and otherwise not exactly the cream-of-the-crop hair. Angela, on the other hand, has great hair - and it's all hers; she paid for it, so it's hers. It always looks nice, even when she's trimming trees, changing oil, working in the woodworking shop on the grandkid's rocking horses (3 - one for here, one for home, and one for sale). It looks good when she gets out of bed, when she is caught in the wind, and when she's all dressed up. She can change the look, the length and the color at a whim. In fact, and here's that Best Thing I mentioned - I got a great laugh this morning, all because of Angela's hair. Our granddaughter didn't recognize her! What was different? Her hair! It was a different wig than she'd ever worn before. As soon as she switched to a longer style, there was no longer a problem. Now, who would have thought that would have happened? I always recognized her, and goodness knows we went through some WIGS - colors, lengths and styles too. When she first started her Real Life Test, the hair was very long and "sexy." Over time, it shortened and became less "I'm ready for my close-up," in style. She can still wow a crowd, trust me on that, but her hair is much more normal. Beautiful, but normal. Okay, I hate it; it's not fair; but it's the way it is. I love her anyway! What am I gonna do? Oh, yeah, I've thought about switching to a wig myself. I even have a couple in their boxes, on the shelf, seldom seen or used, but available. I'm comfortable knowing they are there just in case I'm ever really desperate. It may come to that, I realize, but, for now, I'll just put up with my own problem hair.