I stand on a stool feeling hugely uncomfortable at her invasive measuring as she flits around me with a tape and questions me on things I wear, colors I like, and such. She pulls out her cell and snaps a few pictures of me from all angles. Unhappy with the images, she fusses at me to untie my hair. I hold my impatience and irritation in check and follow her instructions. I’ll never get it back in its sleek style without a lot of effort.

There goes another day of enduring it around my face and having everyone croon about it. Just great!

“For my file, darling, so I remember...