BOZO Begone!

Bonnie was loading her car when I approached her in the hospital parking lot.
She looked up, smiling.

I wanted to know if a friend of mine had contacted her. She had not.
So I quickly turned the conversation to my own hair dilemna.

Yes, I do have hair, and my hair needed a trim.

"I see what you mean," Bonnie agreed, pulling the sides of my hair taunt.
The top and front were smooth and straight, but the sides curled into short ringlets.

I said I had hair; I didn't say it was long.

"I was hoping you could cut my hair sometime this week."
Bonnie, herself a breast cancer survivor, instructed me to see her when I finished treatment that afternoon.

Priorities.

Standing over me, Bonnie examined my hair.
"The top usually grows more slowly than the sides. I can take some off the sides, and we'll let the top catch up." She paused to gauge my response. "Do you want the hair completely off the ear?"
I had to admit that I didn't have a clue, which meant, Bonnie could do whatever she wanted to.

I must have sat in the chair for about 20 minutes, which surprised me because I didn't think I had 20 minutes of hair to cut. When she was finished, Bonnie admitted that getting people to have their hair cut, when they had so little, was one of the hardest things to do.

And just like that, Bonnie removed the black cape from around my shoulder
and
POOF!
BOZO BEGONE!

Apparently, uneven, BOZO hair does not bother everyone.