Now, he calls me "Do Rag"

I am, in the words of Hubby, "whiter than bleached sheets". I also have a headful of recalcitrant curls. They are getting curlier as the years go by, and frizzier, and more likely to break. It is a source of great annoyance. It is also the reason why a couple of my friends have suggested that, way back, I maybe am a little less white than I assume.

Well, I am not about to try and figure that out. But, it got me thinking. If I pretend that, for styling purposes, anyway, my hair is of African descent, what will happen?

Today, on the advice of a particularly attractive beautician, I got myself a head scarf at the dollar store. It is supposed to condition my hair, while I sleep, and help my hair stay straight after I flat-iron it, so I don't have to iron it so often. This is not something I have considered. Sleeping in a head scarf is just not part of my culture. We bleached sheet types just don't do it. However, anything that improves me while I sleep is worth pursuing.

So I am in my adorable little satin head scarf, feeling like a hippie and looking forward to happier hair, when Hubby walks in.

"Is that a do rag? Can I call you 'do rag' now, for the rest of your life until the day you die?"

He can call me anything he wants...I have built-in growth promoters, for longer, stronger hair while I sleep.

Not that I'm going to sleep. I've been up since 3am.