A Little Hairstory

I LOVE getting my hair cut.

I'm not quite sure why I love it so much. Maybe it's because the last time I got it cut was last August and it's WAY over due. I tolerated it the past 3 months and then, you know, there's that ONE day that came and I couldn't stand it any more, so I called for an appointment, but I had to wait 3 weeks before there was an opening that would work. Finally, I got it cut, and it was wonderful.

Marlene, my hair-cutting professional, thinks people love getting their hair cut because it's one time that someone else is asking them what they want and attending to their needs. That makes sense. I think it's also because it feels so good to have your hair washed and scalp massaged. I think it also just feels good to be able to cut off dead and damaged hair and have fresh new hair, just like that. I wish it were that easy in life to get rid of things that are dry and damaged.

I remember my first hair cut. It wasn't my hair. I was 3 and I cut all the hair off my doll. I think I had probably just had a hair cut and thought that's what you do to take care of your babies. When I went to show mom what I'd done, that's when I learned it wouldn't grow back. And, it never did.

My next hair cut memory was when I was 5 or 6 and I cut Bess's hair (she was 3). I cut it right in front and I cut it all the way to the scalp. I made her promise not to tell. It was about 3 weeks later when mom was washing her hair that she felt stubbles and was freaked out until she figured out that I had cut Bess's hair. I believe I probably got a spanking that time.

In 4th grade I had VERY long hair. I was really into mermaids at the time and thought it would be cool to have hair that was so long it would cover my boobs. So, I grew it until I could do that.

Then, in 5th grade I decided it was time to get it cut short. So, mom took me to the hair salon and the woman cut my hair off and I looked like a boy. It was awful, really awful. Hideous, actually. I was already awkward enough being 5'7", fully developed, and a little chunky at age 11. It's a year I like to forget how I looked.

When I was in 8th grade, I told mom I wanted bangs, but she said no. So, I closed the door to my bedroom and got the scissors and cut my own. i started at my right ear and proceeded to cut a perfectly slanted line all teh way over to the left side of my forehead. The bangs on the left side were about an inch long. It was pretty ridiculous. I think I got grounded for that one.

In 9th grade, I used about a bottle of hairspray every day. Mom was furious because hair spray was all over the bathroom walls, counters and floor. I wanted pageant hair every day for school. You know, I hot-rolled my hair and teased it so it poofed out on each side. I also had bangs (that had grown out by now and were normal-length) that I curled and sprayed until they stood up nice and crispy-like. This is the time of my life I also made sure my mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow all matched (I rotated purple, teal and electric blue) and coordinated with my outfits.

In 10th grade, I got a perm. Nuff said. I didn't crop this shot too much because I thought you might enjoy the acid wash jeans. Fashion in the 80's. Wow.

Now, I'm back to basically the same hair style I had when I was 5. Straight, plain, short (chin length), parted on the side with no bangs. I told Marlene that this is the best hair cut for me and no matter what I experiement with hair-wise, I always come back to this. I imagine I'll be 60 with the same hair style.

Hair (and hair styles) are like a little history book. Sometimes I've felt like taking risks. Sometimes it's worked. Many times it hasn't. Sometimes I want to just go back to plain and simple. But, I can always grow it out and start over, if I give it time. Now, I'm most interested in low maintenance and easy, but still presentable. Wonder what that says about me now...