hair

This has never been a sore subject. When I was little I was often left to myself. This was not good. I had friends and play dates but there were infrequent occasions I found myself on my own of a Saturday. I don’t remember where my mother was, maybe not home, but even if she were I still found some way to get into something. When she lamented to her friends not knowing what to do with me they suggested shopping, playing a game, having my hair ‘done’. My mother knew I did not care for shopping and she had no intention of playing a child game. So she took me to her hairdresser.

Once.

I had wayward hair. One Sunday I was having such a hard time brushing it before dressing for church. I found a pair of scissors and cut off any cowlick or wisp that would not brush flat. To avoid that happening again Mother once invited me to sit at her mirrored dressing table to brush my hair. Frustrated, I slammed the hairbrush down on the table shattering the mirror.

IMG_0171.JPGIf my hair were a vine it would do this

The trip to the salon was a disaster. The ladies made so much over me, complimenting the thick brown tangle on my head. I was given a permanent. I only wish they were temporary. My mom couldn’t say enough about it. I felt like my third grade teacher. Her hair looked like it was carved out of yellow plastic. Nothing moved.

Somehow my father solved the whole thing. He commuted each week to a big city and took me with him. He had contacts in advertising and they directed him to a place where I could have a good haircut. This was a place models frequented and the ones having their hair done that day happened to love children so made me feel quite important. So much that I had no idea what was going on with my hair. When I was spun around to face the mirror, it was gone. Well, all but an inch or so. All over my head.

images.jpgjantoo.com

My dad said something to the effect of looking like a pixie, but I was in shock. I was bald!

My mother was happy. Not only was there nothing for me to hack away at, it would take some time before it would grow out enough to be any problem.

This hair went through many manifestations through my life. Long, short, thick, Sun-In lightened. Not really much trouble.

Until I hit mid-life.

Then the grey started. I didn’t mind this much, but the grey was unlike the brown. It did things the brown would not do and would not do what the brown did. I could grow it long enough to put it in a pony tail, braid or hair clip. It was worse in summer humidity. When I lived in northwest New Mexico it was flat. Back here on the coastal east it goes through transitions with the seasons so I have taken to wearing bandannas. They make my head hot but no one sees the mop on my head. Unruly maybe, but manageable.

So happy cool weather is coming.

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17 thoughts on “hair

  1. To my frustration, my own hair has always been thin and straight. My Dad would cut it short when I was little, which made me worry I’d be mistaken for a boy (LOL). I had my first perm when I was around 12 y.o. Since then, I’ve been a bleached blonde and redhead. Now that I am in my 60s and greying, vanity has largely faded. But I do hope we all have “good” hair in heaven!

  2. My hair is so fine and thin that I despair of ever doing much of anything with it – my last haircut is darned close to a pixie cut and I actually like it for a change. My sister was a beautician when I was growing up, and she practiced on me My hair was thick and long then, as I aged it got thinner and thinner. I miss the crazy dos she gave me.

  3. I guess every woman will never like something about their appearance. Unruly hair is certainly a problem – sounds like you had a very big problem with your hair. I often did ponytails and braids to control my mop – as I called my hair. I have found that gray and white hair is even worse – it has a mind of its own.

  4. I bet you rock that bandana! πŸ™‚ You may have seen my wildly curly hair in pix. When I was a little girl, my mom bought a device called The Detangler. It involved two rows of vibrating teeth and was basically a torture device. A few years ago, I switched over to hair product formulated for people of African descent and my hair has never behaved better. I also use a pick. Who knew?!

    • I have tried everything from plain water to mousses, gels, creams, oils. I use a wide-toothed comb. Whatever your mom bought sounds awful! I hope y’all only used it once.

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