Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – July 9, 2004
Bad Hair Months
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – July 9, 2004 – I’ve had short, spiky hair for about four years now. It’s a great cut, easy to manage, easy to style, no muss – no fuss. During this time – I’ve been a brunette, a blonde and a red head. It’s a short, chichi cut but I’m bored to tears with the way I look. What you may ask is the solution?
The answer, of course, is to grow it out and change the style. I’ve been trying to do that for the last three months. My hair has now grown over but not past my ears. Where it used to be funky and fun, it is now flat and uninteresting. Consequently I feel a tad frumpy! However, I remain determined to let my hair grow past this short cut. I’m not sure if I’ll succeed. Whenever I look at myself in the mirror I think – “middle-aged lady with dull, uninteresting hair”. This happens to be the truth but that doesn’t make it agreeable.
I am always fascinated that bad hair can actually spoil my day. Hair is the crowning glory in a woman’s fashion arsenal. I feel snappy and younger when I know I look good, and it’s hard to like my appearance when my hair is in this no man’s land of style frumpishness. I realize that there are far greater concerns in the world than this, but I can’t help but wonder why the whole hair thing is such an issue with people.
Big hair – flat hair – frizzy hair – curly hair – straight hair – grey hair – permed hair – colour treated hair – long hair – short hair – razored hair – chunky hair – spiked hair – thin hair – hair comb overs (bad idea) and last but certainly not least – no hair!
So I march onward with the hope of growing my hair into a longer, chic style. Perhaps I’m just fighting the battle of middle age. As much as I like to think I’ve accepted the reality of mid-life, I’m not sure if that’s true. The physical changes of middle age are not easy to absorb, let alone embrace.
I remember when I was thinner, tauter, sexier, more energetic, challenged by work and career, eager to explore the potential of a new love relationship and interested in new challenges.
I feel a bit like a garden slug these days – inching my way through life, content to come out at night and always a wee bit damp. My hair is just a metaphor for my life. Growing – changing direction and style – losing some of is lustre and finally accepting that it is no longer a crowning glory, but a worthy accessory to an older and much wiser “me”.
I guess that’s okay. What if I was seventy with a great head of hair but a life in chaos? Not such a cool prospect. Okay that’s settled, but I’ll be darned if I’m going to give up totally on the hair thing. Stay tuned.
