Bad hair days

There is no denying it. My hair looks like a mop. This is not surprising and is entirely down to my own laziness so I shouldn't complain. Not getting it cut for 3 months probably isn't acceptable for someone with short hair but I got lucky. Curls cover all manner of sins.
At the moment however, they also cover what feels like my entire face (whether or not that can be counted as a 'sin' I'll leave to your discretion) and although that look works for Cousin It, it's a bit annoying for me.
I'm going to cut it all off before India though. Relief! Maybe I'll shave it...you know like Sinead O'Connor.
Errrrmm..except...on reflection, maybe not. That's a little too far.
I will of course hate my hair even more once it's gone. Without exception, ever time I leave the hairdresser I am weeping inside because they always make me look like my twin brother. N.B. I don't have an actual twin brother but he has hair worthy of McFly.
And to make matters worse, everytime this tiny catastrophe happens, one of my friends always laughs. One time (the worst time) her boyfriend was there when I saw her and she said we had the same hairstyle. He had terrible hair. Mini sob.
I have to live with that comment and this hair you know. A sympathetic lie doesn't hurt anyone. In fact I would like to champion a little white lie. Often both parties know the truth, but a little untruth goes a long way to make you feel the tiniest bit better about your new, and blessedly temporary look.
Honesty is a wonderful thing, and my friend is a rare and glimmering beacon of truth. She is that person who tells you to shut the god damn window, it's freezing in here. Or doesn't tiptoe around making you do the washing up. Or informing you that for the good of the world you probably shouldn't sing in front of other living creatures. Because sometimes you need to know these things. If you are being annoying, or selfish, or you smell bad or something, you need someone to set you straight.
But hair is an altogether different thing. No one needs to know the truth about something that is unfixable. I can see for myself what it looks like, what I need from other people is for them to lie through their teeth and tell me it's ok. You look nice.
So when I get my hair cut in a couple of weeks, no laughing. I know. I already cried about it. Tell me it's fine. Thank you.