One time, a person (whom I love dearly) complained to me about the possibility of his hair becoming less. Much less.
While I’m pretty sure I instantly replied, “Oh, honey, it’s just hair,” I know I was transported back to the days of old when I had close to absolutely no hair.
For like the first three years of my life.
“But, Jill,” you say. “No hair at 3 and not so much hair at 40 are two very different things.”
I don’t think so. Just look at my face. All sad because I had no hair. Or maybe because I’d just awoke from a nap. Or I hated my outfit. Or maybe I was hungry.
I’m going to say it was the no-hair look that did it. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.