… I’m hairy noon and night, hair that’s a fright …
There’s this lady that works on the checkout at my local grocery store. She’s probably in her 40s or 50s and one of the friendliest cashiers that you’re likely to come across. But there is something that makes it sort of difficult to choose her line when it comes time to choose.
I’ve seen bald women before, although most of them cover their naked noggins with a wig of some variety. This lady decided at some point in her life to be, err, more creative than that. You see, she painted hair on her head. Yes, she is bald, but she has this black hairline either painted or tattooed on to her scalp. It’s just this big block of black on her cranium, and it’s really hard to ignore.
She served me yesterday when she opened up a register next to the line I was waiting in and motioned me forward. Lots of pleasantries were spoken, but I have to admit that I found it hard to look north of her nose, because it just looks so silly. I know that probably sounds insensitive, and well, I guess it is. But that’s how it looks. I know that she’s probably not bald by choice, but the painting? I’m thinking that was her choice in some way.
I hope she’s not ill, because she really is a very friendly person, and well, I don’t wish ill-health on anyone.
I think that when I lose my hair (and my forehead is expanding it’s real estate holdings), I’ll just stick with the cue-ball, rather than the eight-ball, look.