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A note about this entry. All the images are photos of photos and the quality has suffered accordingly, but I hope you get the idea.
My hair and I have had a long and difficult relationship that began the day it failed to appear, in other words, the day I was born.
In fact it failed to show up until I was nearly two, and my mother was forced to tape bows to my head so that people knew that I was a girl.
When it did show up it was a wild, unruly mess most of the time.
But it didn’t bother me much, as at that age it was my mother’s problem not mine, and accordingly she was my hairstylist until my early teens. And that meant home perms ... terrible, scalp burning, home perms.
Or, worse yet, ‘grown-out’ home perms.
My first professional haircut was worse than the perms, it was a long Dorothy Hamil and I hated it with a passion (but I loved that shirt- heh).
And I was stuck with Dorothy until I reached high-school where I took matters into my own hands, and one day at the mall I paid someone to do this:
I was so, terribly proud of that hair cut, I believed that I was finally cool. Yeah, I was a deluded teenager. I don’t think I even had that cut trimmed, I believe from there I simply began to let it grow. I was desperate to have hair down to my ass. Secretly I still am, and though when it comes to long hair I am follically challenged, it was many, many years before I gave up.
I did manage to dress it up for my first prom.
But mostly, it was a long, stringy mess,
that I teased, and pinned,
and fluffed,
and believed looked great.
And I suppose that sometimes it did, when I spent a great deal of time on it. Mostly though, I pulled it back with a barrett, or into a pony tail, or the dreaded banana clip (that I was still using in ‘99).
And one day I woke up, and admitted to myself that I have fine hair, and very little of it, it is simply not destined to be down to my ass, and I had it cut. Suddenly Dorothy and I were sharing the bathroom mirror again.
Problems with my hands started and my hair got shorter, and I’ve had basically the same style for five years now. And, to be honest, I started liking my hair for probably the first time in my life, and I finally forgave it for being late.
And that’s my history hairstory.