Even the giant butterfly clip doesn't help.
The cold is digging in like a fanatic adolescent after a blackhead, and the past few mornings I have been forced to make a painful choice. Wear the cunning earmuffs--in which I'm insouciant, radiant, truly have the world at my feet--or a warmer and less likely to sproing off my head when my hands are full, but seriously debilitating in the follicular region, knitted cap? The decision was made for me when I lost my earmuffs (and really, I don't know why, but I look smashing in those earmuffs) in the tussle of Washington unpacking. So yesterday it was a tight red number--too long for a skullie and too short for a stocking, resembling nothing so much as a knit condom on my head--and today one of those brilliant Andes hats with the earflaps and the braids that hang down. SERIOUSLY WARM. But now my bangs are plastered to my head like those of an eight-year-old child whose mom has a serious Detangler fetish. And let's not even talk about how juvenile yours truly looks in the hats--if I were smaller I'd get taken by the hand crossing streets, as it is, I look like a horribly overgrown child with a boring dress-up box. Oh, and the other thing about bangs in the winter? When you sneeze, they fly straight up, like you were just surprised by a cartoon character going "Ah-OO-ga!" It's [English accent] damn silly.
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