It wasn’t too long ago that I didn’t know what a bad hair day was. I was in sixth grade before I really gave my hair any thought. That was the year my teacher asked me ” Who combed your hair?” When I said, nobody, he responded, “I thought so.”So from then on I worked and worked to get my hair the way I wanted, but its been no use. When I was playing truth or dare with girls as a teenager, one of the girls wanted to know when I was going to grow sideburns. I didn’t tell her I was wondering the same thing.As a young hippie I couldn’t even get my shoulder length wavy hair to blow-dry right. One of my girlfriends advised a different technique. “Try blow-drying the other side first.” Well, that didn’t work either.I’ve gone through stages, hippie to clean cut, clean cut to high forehead, high forehead to balding, balding to – permanent bad hair day.You know I think we should make bad hair day a national holiday. It could be called, National Bad Hair Day. It could be on a Monday so we’d all get a three day weekend and to celebrate we’d all just walk around with bad hair.It would really catch on. The unions would be for it, and with casual dress all the rage, it would go with uptight management types, too. After all they must spend a fortune to get their hair just right. The government could endorse it. Most government people have lots of bad hair days. Then we could have the merchants in on it, too. Bad Hair Day sales are just what we need to keep the economy rolling.Well, I’d just rather we suffer as a country, because now when I’m having a bad hair day, its because of a rogue hair, tickling the inside of my nose.