Missing Crazy Hair Tammy

With Tammy I always knew it would be crazy--a twelve dollar haircut in under twelve minutes, complete with a monologue that was part Roseann and part Stephanie Plum. Tammy cut my hair for so many years it was a total shock when she married some bozo in New York, sold the olde shoppe, and moved without so much as a fare-thee-well.

I miss the updates on Tammy's ex, her no-good son crashing sports cars bought by her ex, her airport encounters with TSA, her piercings and tats, her deadbeat sister, her exercise regimen, and tales of taking her former sister-in-law to male strip shows. It's a sitcom that has no cable reruns. Plus, Tammy's hair over the many years was cut and colored to resemble every animal in The Lion King.

Before Tammy, there was ponytail Eddy, and when I felt rich there was that stylist entertaining all the Lebanese women in Plano during my highlights and eyebrow threading. Before giant pick-up truck Eddy there was ADHD marathon-running Sheri. Before Sheri there was Cheri. But now I'm searching for a reliably weird and inexpensive stylist. The gal who bought Tammy's shop is pleasant, but can't get both sides even.

Now, evangelizing gun-owner Chuck has cut my hair twice. The price is right. The cut is good, The politics are scary. We tentatively agree that Folgers is the best coffee, everything costs too much, and kids today have too much screen time. All other conversation topics are stressful.

Do not run with scissors.

Thank you.

© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder

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