Odd to think that I was thirty when I first stepped through the door of a hairdresser, but it’s true. Up until then, my mother took care of my hair cuts. It really felt odd making this change, but it had to be done as Mom was 5 hours away.

Before I tell you everything, listen to my column from 1981.

A few years ago, I gave up dying my hair, but every once in a while I get it cut. I can’t stand the weight of it when it gets too long.

I tried cutting my own bangs in a mirror once during the shutdown. That was a disaster as I couldn’t manage to work the scissors in the mirror. So it’s either get someone to cut my hair or look like a sheepdog.

That’s about it for today.

Copyright 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved