worrierking
Footballguy
Worrierqueen and I have been having a strenuous disagreement about the length of my hair. She likes it long, I like it short. As a dutiful and doting husband, I have acquiesced to her wishes and grown my hair longer, much to my displeasure. Today, I snapped and got a haircut. Every time I stepped outside, I felt like President Trump crouching beneath the rotating blades of Marine One, trying to keep the tangled mane in place. When I looked in the mirror, I saw Rubber Soul-era Ringo (Why couldn't it have been Paul?). Oh, and to add insult, my eyebrows have begun growing at an astonishing rate. It's Like I'm Leonid Brezhnev! I suppose I should pick up some flowers or something on the way home to avoid her going all Daenerys Targaryen on King's Landing on me.
Advice from FFA?
Advice from FFA?