Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it. Hair. A reprise.
Why did I wait so long to cut it off?
As I write this I sit waiting for my son’s hair to be cut surrounded by the sounds of women talking, the smell of hair potions and the whoosh of hair dryers.
Today in the mail I received an article from this week’s New York Times Magazine from an Atlanta friend. The note with it read…
"Jamie ~ Instantly thought of you while reading this!"
I loved reading it. (The note and the feature)
A few days out of cutting my hair, reading Joyce Maynard’s thoughts got me to thinking.
Why did it take me so long?
I didn’t go as short as the author (but if I was writing an article for the NYTimes I might have) but I completely got her fears.
Men friends giving her baffled looks upon announcing her plans. “My knees may ache and my brow might appear lined (at least when the Botox wears off), but so long as my hair hung past my shoulders, as it had when I was young, I could still believe that some aspect of the girl I was at 18 still resided in my 58-year-old body.”
The more I analyzed the cutting hair conundrum, the more complex the puzzle became. Much more so than could be pieced together into a whole image on one rainy weekend at the beach.
I knew already it wasn’t the “long hair is sexy” thing. Not that I don’t think long hair is sexy, I knew in my head and saw in the mirror my “long hair for the sake of being sexy” days were behind me.
So why hadn’t I chopped it long before?
Warmth. That is honest. I love being wrapped with hair when it’s cold. But warmth wasn’t enough reason for me looking woefully out of style.
It was the point Maynard touched on in her feature. Youth. The young girl in me always wore her hair longer. What do you mean it doesn’t work anymore?
Yes. Just like my knees and the ever-deepening facial parenthesis emphasizing my mouth, my hair betrayed me.
Still thick – its graying texture hanging from my lackluster skin tone looked so very average.
And here’s the kicker.
It only can go from average to rotten.
I think that is the long and short of it. Long hair on me is never going to look like it did 20 years ago because I will never look like that 28.75 year old again.
Pooper.
At least I figured it out. Not to say I ever won’t have it long again (because I am the stubborn sort), in spite of the fact I’d probably wear it up all the time.
I’m really okay with it.
Aging is so hip surprising I never tried it before.
hmm.
