Hair Don'ts

It's that time again.

Every couple of months I get bored with my hair and consider letting it grow. I usually wear my hair in various stages of short, and for the most part have since I was eleven. Before that, it was long and thick and blonde, as was my sister's. I had a drawer full of ribbons and barettes and headbands in every color of the rainbow. I pulled it back in a ponytail, I wore it braided.

Or more to the point, my mother pulled it back in a ponytail and braided it for me. The average elementary school girl is not the most skilled hairdresser, and my attempts at high fashion back then were pretty pathetic. (Actually, they still are...) When my mother went back to work, she realized she did not have time to assist two girls with the regime that went along with having long hair. (This was in the days before the handheld blow dryer; we had one of those huge monstrosities that fit over your head like a giant plastic helmet and took at least 30 minutes to effectively rid one's hair of moisture. It was either that or let it dry naturally, which took forever.) So she took us to the hairdresser and had her cut all of our hair off. My mother swears that the hairdresser cried and told her she didn't want to do it. But when we left, we both had hair that barely touched the back of our shirt collars. To this day, my mother still has a lengthy lock of hair from both mine and my sister's heads from that day.

And for the majority of my life, I have worn my hair practically identical to that style. There were a few missteps: my junior year in high school, which was absolutely hideous. I hid my yearbook from that year. It was about shoulder length, and was shaped like a bell. I kid you not. It looked like someone, upon seeing the Liberty Bell for the first time, was so touched and inspired that they had actually molded my hair into that shape. Not attractive, not even for 1984. I finally gave up, and got it all cut off again.

My freshman year in college, I started to let it grow again, but got to that horrible "in-between" stage. Not wanting to make the bell mistake again, I made a worse one. I got a perm. A bad home perm. I soon came to my senses and got it cut again.

And at least once a year, I get bored with what I see in the mirror and decide to do something new. For a while I decided that I wanted my hair color to go back to the shade it was when I was younger, and dyed it blonde. If I had stayed with the first color I used, all would have been well. Unfortunately, I worked my way back through the ash blondes until I hit a shade that did not occur in nature. Blondes may have more fun, but I'll never know it because I'll never go back there again.

At one point I decided to experiment with the colorwashes that were supposed to come out in two weeks. I selected Copper Penny, which proceeded to not wash out of my hair in the least after a month. And to make matters worse, my smock at work was purple. Horrifying. I tried to dye my hair back to its original shade, and the two colors combined and left me with reddish-gold hair. Once again, not a naturally occuring shade. I ended up having to let it grow out; I had two tone hair for months. And I wonder why I didn't date much back then.

I also went the assymetrical route in the late 80's. Ooooh, I was such the little rebel. Not. The assymetrical cut was the refuge of the girls who could not wear a bob.

At this moment, my hair is in the shaggy "oh dear God, I need a haircut" phase. I get to use all the headbands and clippies that I bought last year when I was at this point. A decision has to be reached, and soon. It's starting to get in my eyes. If I let it grow, I'll be able to change my hair to suit my mood. I'd be able to use my hair as a dancing prop again. But on the other hand, that means I can't just wash it and go in the morning. Fun little hairclips are time consuming, and that means getting up even earlier. Curling irons are a tool of evil. More hair = more hair dye, and the stuff I use is already ridiculously expensive. (But I like it. I like the shade, I like the fact that it doesn't fade, I like the aromatherapy stuff you add to the developer to cover up the chemical smell, I like the super thick "professional" gloves. Doesn't make me look like Milla Jovovich though. False advertising? You make the call.)

In most probability, I'll let it go for another week or so, and get it all cut off again. I don't know why I'm going through all this angst. If I was a guy (or didn't have such a conservative job), I'd just pull a Sinead O'Connor and shave it all off. Then all my problems would be over with. If I wanted it long, I could just get a wig.