My Anthology of Hair

I have worn many, many hairstyles in my life. There will never be ONE perfect haircut – at least not for long. My own caprice and ever-changing-fashion simply make that impossible.

Since it’s a new year, let’s have some fun, and make fun of me for a while. Walk with me…

It started here, my last truly long-hair phase. THIS is why I wear it short.

You don’t need any further explanation, now, do you? I’ll give you one, anyway. One day in college, my roommate and I gathered all of her lovely red hair into one fist and then began measuring mine into similarly-sized bunches. We counted eight. EIGHT. I have enough hair for eight people. When I go to a new salon, inevitably half the staff gathers ’round my chair, feeling up my head in wonder. After every haircut, the floor resembles something you’d see at the groomer’s. I am, in short, a follicular side-show freak.

I’d share it with you if I could. Really.

Ah, a vast improvement wouldn’t you say? This cut isn’t bad. The problem with hair that grows faster than a chia-pet, is that it only looks good for about five minutes. Then you’re ready to be pruned again…

Longer, this time, but with the help of about four types of hair goo to weigh it down. Some women use product to get lift, I use product to deflate. Without the goo, it looks like this:

Like a brown feather duster.

Caprice, thy name is Adelle. Every couple of years I blithely inform the long-suffering Annette, my stylist, that I want to try something different. She heaves a big sigh and waits patiently with me for six months or so, when, as always, I come back around.

Thus began the “lopsided phase” (as a dear friend dubbed it).

Oddly enough, I wore this style for an entire year. Spending a great deal on straighteners, dryers, flat irons, and HOURS with a big round brush, this is the only picture I have to show for my trouble when it had finally achieved the “perfect” length.

It took me a full hour to style it that day. AN HOUR. And it was so heavy with the goop necessary to make it lay still, it was like wearing a helmet. I could legally ride a bike in the state of California.

Shortly after the photo above was taken, I read this article and I woke up.

The lights went on.

Lopsided just isn’t me. Long hair isn’t me. High-maintenance hair IS NOT ME! Angels started singing, and I realized my true calling. I am a Pixie-Wearing Mom and nobody else. Thankyouverymuch!

So, here we are now – Annette lopped it all again in November (doing a happy dance the entire time). As she snipped (hacked), I peeped through the falling locks and saw the “me” return, no longer dominated be “The Hair”. Such a relief! The first attempt, though, was still too long.

Here is where we are today. I’m loving the school-boy vibe. And the easy-peasy styling! Takes me a whopping five minutes – and that includes styling creme, and this yummy-smelling stuff in a blue spray-bottle called “It’s a 10″. I don’t know exactly what it does, but it’s fabulous. Wrap it up with a blast of the dryer for a minute and dab or two of wax, ding! we’re all done.

C’est bien, non?

It is frustrating (royally unfair) at times, for with such thick hair, I cannot enjoy such darling cuts as this…

or this…

or this…

However, there are a few celebs I keep an eye on, who being “blessed” (cursed) with thick locks, still manage a cute short ‘do. Liv, Selma, Winona – these girls pull it off with panache. In my early years of pixie, it was Meg Ryan-inspired all the way, with a little Faith Hill thrown in (I’m dating myself here, aren’t I?) Here’s what’s on my “What’s Next” list, for when “English School Boy” gets boring. Knowing me, it’ll be any second now.

Gentle reader, I beg you. The next time you hear me chirp that I’m “growing it out again” remind me that I will hate it. It’s not worth the effort, and we are just never going to be able to pull this look off again.

What have I learned from this? Take stock every once in a while. Does your look own you, or do you own your look? It can also be enlightening to examine yourself from a cricitcal third-person perspective. In searching for old photos to include in this article, I have discovered that perhaps a turtleneck is not my best look. Just call me Spock. Yikes.

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