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10 october 2000

hair and stuff

My neighbor Andrew stopped by this evening. He took extra-good care of Wilma while I was away in Vermont, and came over to return her health records and chat for a bit. My apartment is still in a bit of moving disarray, and there was a box of knickknacks open near where he sat. On top of the rubble was a black and white photograph of a woman with long hair and a lot of makeup on.

"Who's that?" he asked

"Um, that's me, when I had my hair."

At which point, I thought I might have to administer first aid to Andrew, for all the gasping and stuff he did. "Wow, that's a lot of hair!"

Yup, that was a lot of hair. I'm feeling quite a lot sleeker now, if you must know.

It got me to thinking about all the misery I've put my scalp through over the years. When you think about it, I've had some of the worst hair you can imagine. I was a child in the 70's, but my hair was too thick to carry Farrah hair. So I had the "other" option --- remember Captain and Tenille? I was Tenille after the age of six, when some renegade salon chick lopped off four feet of hair, much to my mother's horror. It was nearly down to my knees, and this woman mistook "thin it out" with "off with her head!"

Then came the 80's. Ah, the 80's. Perms, perms, and more perms, requests to feather it, keep that rat tail long!, short in the front, long in the back, and the inevitable downward spiral into artificial hair coloring. Not only that, but when I finally did hit full-on puberty in the 80's my hair started to get curly. No amount of gel, mousse, or persistent watering could keep it down. It was bouffy, it was thick, it was weather-resistant. I didn't have bad hair days. I was having series of bad decades.

In the 90's, however, my situation was definitely looking up. Throughout college, I just let it go, let it grow...and grow...and grow. Kept the curl under control with a bit of gel, and some of the new frizz- control products that had begun to hit the market. At last! I didn't look like one of the Bangles anymore! Except for one unfortunate incident with a hair design student and his geometrically- impossible bob cut, the 90's were good for me. I entered womanhood looking more or less okay.

So I don't know precisely why, a few months ago, I finally got the blanket chopped off. I think that, ultimately, I was sick and tired of being hot all the time. I'm not exaggerrating when I tell you that between my dad, sister and me; we've got enough hair on our heads to toupee all the bald men in the Arctic regions of Norway. Regular combs don't go through it; we have to buy tough- bristled, warranted grooming thingies. It's not a hairdo; it's a workout.

Anyway, I recently decided on a sleek little number that you see on my splash page at lionessden.com. I like it a lot, and the funny thing is, my friends and family love it. I get carded more often, a few merchants recently gave me student discounts on stuff, and I just feel...prettier. My neck shows again. I can run my fingers through it. It's even straight, thanks to that miraculous silicone glop and a bit of gel. Even Kelli has contemplated lopping her locks after seeing mine.

A few people were shocked that I would cut off my long hair, and subtlely indicated that somehow, it made me less of a "girl". I think maybe Andrew had that in the back of his mind. I will admit that, sometimes, I've been conditioned to think the same thing. That women with short hair had dropped out of the girl club, to attend to the grittier business of being productive, instead of being pretty. They had too much to do to deal with the daily dilemma of up or down, clips or no clips, ponytails, twists, or perhaps a smart little do-rag?

So let me tell y'all something. Now that I've got peripheral vision again, now that my eyes are showing, my skin is exposed, and my hair hugs my head like it belongs right there; I don't really care if I'm part of the "girl" club or not. I like seeing the world unencumbered by the big, red mop. I'm busy now, attending to the business of feeling the breeze on my ears, welcoming them back from too many decades of hiding.