My disappearing hair is getting out of hand.Though I twist and arrange and abuse every strand. My hair always looks like an unmade bed. Cuz I don't have enough to cover my head.Where is there someone to hear my sad story. Who can I trust to restore my crowning glory. I know just the person: This woman I shall see. At a little shop I know I will find Betty Dee. Written by Barb Stevenson June 2014Read more