Since I lost my once wavy and luxurious shock of hair many, many moons ago, I can't stand to run a comb through my hair. WHAT HAIR? Getting pretty nigh bald on top, a comb feels like a rake on my head.
I don't know what the draw is, but my grandchildren sure like to mess with my hair. And I let them.
They giggle and play, trying to give me pigtails and other uplifting designs.
|Man, I need a hair cut, maybe more than one!|
So, I don't use a comb. I simply let the calf lick it in the morning, and if the wind don't kick up it'll stay in place until nap time.