Contemplations on Hair.

It's probably no surprise to anyone that women tend to have a love/hate relationship with their hair. We try to make it do things it's not intended to do and style it in ways that defy nature. We cut and color it on a whim, or to soothe an emotional upset. I've done all these things, and I'm going to blame it on my mother, because it all started with her.

My hair was never good enough, for whatever reason. I had home perms from the time I was 5 until I was 19 and said No More. (Now, some of you of a Certain Age may remember that back in the 70s, the Toni company had a special brand of gentle perms for kids, so my mom certainly wasn't the only one trying to give her child a head full of curls.) The problem was - and still is - my hair just doesn't hold curls for very long, perm or no perm. But Mother wanted curls, so that's what I did, because that's what I thought I was supposed to do. 

For awhile in my early 20s, I wore a pixie cut. It was easy, except going to the salon every 6 weeks for a trim wasn't really in my budget. I don't scrimp on hair care - I give myself the gift of going to a nice salon - but the upkeep got a little expensive. Plus, I discovered living history, which was going to require some creative hairstyling to be anything close to historically accurate, so I started growing out my hair.

To my great surprise, I discovered that my growing un-permed hair actually had a natural wave to it - not a lot, but it was definitely there. I thought it seemed unkempt, though, so I usually blew it out straight. And I grew it out almost to my waist. This was the first time in my life I'd ever had long hair. 

I grew it out long enough to donate some to Locks of Love. Then I wore an asymmetrical bob for awhile, grew it out again, trimmed it back, etc., etc., dyed it red for a number of years, experimented with vintage wet sets, various updos, decorative hair pieces, and so on. (I should point out that I do love styling hair, and have since I was a kid with the stylable Barbie head.) 

No matter what I did, I always had that little voice telling me it wasn't good enough. It was sloppy, it was frizzy, it was goofy - whatever. Then the pandammit happened, and I didn't feel the need to do all that styling all the time anymore. I also quit coloring my hair, mostly because it was getting too gray to bother.

Lately I've been trying to make friends with my unstyled, slightly wavy graying hair. I see plenty of other people with hair like mine, and I think they look fantastic. One of my best friends has gorgeous long wavy hair, and I've never once thought she looked sloppy or unkempt - so why do I tell *myself* that? Seems kinda unfair, really, not to extend myself the same courtesy that I do others.

I'm 55 years old now and the fact is, I don't have to care anymore. If I want to wear long witchy slightly-wavy unstyled hair, that's my prerogative; if it scares people off, I probably didn't want them around anyway. Oh, I'm still going to vintage-style it when I feel like it, but it's going to be because I want to, and not because anyone else expects it of me. 

Is it time for you to stop carrying the weight of other people's expectations? I hereby give you permission to put it all down.

Till next time -----

KFC