Why is hair such a big deal?  We put so much emphasis on how much  you have and where, what color it is, the texture and style—it’s enough to make me want to pull mine out sometimes.

My hair journey is pretty simple.  When I was a kid I was required to have short hair until I was old enough to take care of it myself.  Then the 80s happened so much of my free time was taken up with styling mousse, blow dryers, curling irons, and hairspray.  I joke that I used up my lifetime allotment of time to spend on my hair during high school which is why I’ve had low maintenance styles ever since.

But in recent years I’ve had just hair, not an actual hairstyle.  I’d love to blame it on the pandemic but the truth is that I had gotten lazy long before that.  My mom, in her career as a freelance advisor, suggested I do something with it.  I don’t want to set the dangerous precedent of admitting she was right but it did look pretty bad.

I started searching around and found a place where I could get an appointment quickly, before I lost my nerve.  I’m not crazy about someone fussing over me, especially since it had been so long since I’d been to a salon—not to mention the COVID situation.  

But it was in the middle of December so the numbers weren’t too bad; in fact, it was just in time for the first day of winter so I could start the season anew.  The place I chose happened to be near where Yogi goes for his grooming so I thought that was a good sign.  Maybe it could become one-stop shopping for the whole family.

I thought I should come prepared, so I brought printouts of styles that I was interested in.  The stylist eliminated a few of them right off the bat, citing the fact that those would require daily styling.  I guess she took one look at me and just knew this wasn’t going to happen.  There’s something to be said for being able to read your customer.

Afterwards I couldn’t decide which was more fascinating, how much better I looked, or how disgusted I was by all the dead split ends on the floor that used to be hanging from my head.  Within the week I further broke from my usual routine by (1) spending money, and (2) by purchasing hair care products.

I think my stylist would be proud of me for the number of times I’ve put forth the effort to make my hair presentable.  I realize it was a bit of a gamble for her to turn me loose with her business card, knowing what I looked like before.  Still, I’m not used to having bangs so when I’m at home I keep them out of my eyes with a frontal pigtail that causes me to resemble Cindy Lou-Who.

I admit my admiration for those who take it up to the next level.  A friend showed up to an event, stating that since she was an old woman, she was going to embrace it with blue hair.  No, not the stereotypical white with bluish tint.  This woman’s hair is the color of Windex.

I enjoy cutting cartoons out of the newspaper to send to people, since everybody loves some real mail.  I saw this one about the 1960s Broadway musical Hair, which happens to be my favorite.  The joke was that there would be a revival of the production, featuring the original cast.  It’s called Bald.