As the years have progressed, my hair has shrunk. It is now officially short. What I have found strange while rocking this shorter look is the reaction of other people. My Mum is verging on disgusted. For her, hair length is synonymous with femininity…mine therefore has gone. My hair has made me into her 14-year-old son (in her mind!) Like Samson, my feminine strength has disappeared with my locks. My father-in-law has had a similar reaction. He sees me on a slippery slope that will see me bald or with a shaved head within the next year! The “young” seem to love it. As they begin to feel comfortable in their looks they seem to exude a certain admiration for those willing to take a risk with their style. As they straighten their hair to within an inch of its life and wear jeggings with pride to fit in with the uniform of the day, anyone prepared to step outside of that box elicits a certain admiration.
Of course I get hair envy. As I brushed my niece’s heavenly locks yesterday and plaited and pruned her hair into many varied styles, I briefly considered a regrowth plan. But then my 10 minutes in the shower and 5 minutes drying time (with no straightening or curling requirement) quickly changed my mind. Who knows, I may look back at this period of my life with disdain. Heaven knows I feel that way about my basin cut of 1982 (I was but 4) and my blonde with black under colour of 2000..but so what! Hair always grows; I have sobbed after certain disaster cuts of old and TRIED to repeat this like a mantra! Trends and styles continue to change and once you release the comfort blanket that is your hair, you sometimes feel set free.