Bad hair

"What did you mean when you said my hair looked like Pee Wee Herman's last night?" 
Jay paused on the other end of the phone and finally said, "you're thinking about this way too much.  It was a joke, let it go."

I was coming off two consecutive bad hair days.  It wasn't god-awful hair days but they weren't good or even fair hair days.  It was somewhere just not quite good enough to be passable hair days.  It probably wasn't as inadequate as I thought to others, but what does it matter what others think if it was bothering me?  It really wasn't so much a case of vanity as it was a failure on my part to come up to my own personal expectations.  I admit when it comes to the external I have some fairly high expectations. But they are my own expectations and to me it translates into so much more than looking good.  It is a matter of how the external affects the internal.  You have to admit that when you dress well you feel better about yourself.  When my appearance is well put together I feel more positive and have more confidence.  (See what happens the other way around with post Wore what? - which by-the-way - Jay thought sounded like something from a neurotic Woody Allen movie).
So last night I was correcting the bad hair when Jay came home.  I was in my usual spot on the bedroom floor.  I had the full length mirror propped in front of me leaning against the dresser.  The television was on only to distract me from the length of time it would take me to iron out the erratically curly tendrils to a straight sophisticated glossy mane. I had all but a small section of hair pulled back tightly and pinned up with numerous clips in the back.  That is when Jay walked in and greeted me.  "Wow, you look like Pee Wee Herman."
Pee Wee Herman!  Pee Wee Herman!  What did his hair look like?!  It was just a...a...it was just an old fashioned little boy haircut, wasn't it?  So I look like that?  Why?  Because, because it's all pulled back and looks...it looks...it looks awful.  I know!  I'm trying to fix it.  Do I need this now after two bad hair days?!  Do I, really?
Oh course, Jay didn't think or know I had two bad hair days.  He was just as he said, making a joke.
Humpt!  I suppose. I guess.  Right.  Sure.  Okay.
So he made an exit and left me alone to fix my hair.  Smart guy.  He did mention later how good it looked.
It didn't stop me from asking about it again the next morning.
Pee Wee Herman.  Really.
TT