This story begins back when I was in high school and I had long hair. It wasn’t too long – only 3 inches or so pass my chin. It was the same length as Kurt Cobain’s hair, but I was a pretty boy so it was clean and shiny like Gwyneth Paltrow’s. I point this out only because I had to use a brush to fix it (100 strokes before bed!), and I’ve used a brush out of habit ever since. I use a brush now even though my hair’s pretty short; it’s just the way I roll.
Well, I had the same brush for about 12 years. I actually found it when I was in high school. I noticed it in the vacant athletic locker next to mine. Over the entire season, it just sat there by itself beckoning me to embrace it and use it. It was kind of a sword in the stone situation sans the rock or dignity or anything. I eventually took the brush and it stayed with me through high school, college, and my first years as a teacher. Sadly, two years ago it fell apart, and despite my attempts at fixing it, it was gone. To me, the next logical step is to use my wife’s brush. Her brush is fancy to say the least – much fancier than the brush I stole out of an empty locker. She actually paid good money for it as I imagine quite a few women do.
Here is the problem: she doesn’t want me to use her brush. I have a high and tight haircut (maybe 3 inches long on the top), so it’s not like I’m leaving long strands in the brush. Consequently, she actually went out and bought me a new brush. This brush feels like it was fashioned out of Legos – just pieces of plastic digging into my scalp. As you can imagine, I complain about it to her every time I use it. She’s a tough cookie and still won’t let me use her brush. She’s somehow learned how to tune out my incessant whining over the years we’ve been together. I can’t even use it when she’s not around because she’ll know. Oh, she’ll know.
I think there are two reasons why she won’t let me use it. The first reason is that she has a younger sister, and I bet they fought about that kind of stuff all the time when they were kids. She probably has a strict sense of ownership when it comes to girly things. She probably won’t let me borrow any of her tops either! The second reason is that she’s really OCD. The brush needs to go back to the drawer from whence it came. We have two countertops that are separated by a wall, and I bet she’s worried that after I’m finished, it won’t find its way back. This is a valid point. I’m horrible at putting things back.
Here is the happy medium – a call to action if you will. Any woman in my life, please buy me a new brush for Christmas that doesn’t feel like I’m using a metal pine cone to fix my hair. I don’t know where the brush store is because the brush I had magically appeared. There is no way I could possibly figure this out on my own. Please help.