Originally published November 2009
I’m letting my hair down today. I ignored the curling iron so my bangs are not straight, but are curly cues with some strands sticking straight up in the air. So in addition to the curling iron, I avoid mirrors today. I have great hair but I have one, never learned how to work with it, and two, have never learned how to appreciate its naturalness.
I grew up in the Marcia Brady era; long, straight blonde hair was the ideal and I certainly didn’t qualify. With coarse, curly hair and hot, humid New York weather, I was prone to a mass of unruly hair that was, as a teenager, the bane of my existence. Curling irons and hot rollers were not part of my beauty arsenal so I used orange juice cans. With a rubber band I secured my hair atop my head, then rolled chunks of it around the can securing it with bobby pins. Sleeping was a challenge. In the morning after releasing my hair I winced in pain as my roots once again returned to their natural position. For a short time I enjoyed straight hair but as the day wore on the inevitable frizziness won out and I once again contended with hair that had a mind of its own.
High school graduation picture. See how well the cans work?
In my twenties I discovered that permanent waves worked. You would think the perm would only make matters worse, but it actually tamed my hair.
I thought the perm was a good idea!
I don’t perm my hair anymore. It’s bad enough that I have to make regular appointments to cut and color. I am not a maintenance person and I certainly don’t like what hair care costs these days. No, my routine is minimal; usually consisting of a scrunchy or clip. I’ll comb it out, use an iron to smooth the frizz and be done with it.
I wish I could be as talented as my daughter, Adrian, whose hair is much curlier than mine. She is an artist when it comes to hairstyles; she can shove bobby pins in her hair and it comes out looking spectacular. She also wears hats really well, a trend I’m trying on for size.
My hair may drive me crazy but the truth is, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The best thing I am finding about getting older is in learning to embrace the “real” me.
So today is a let-my-hair-be day. I just got back from Los Angeles. In the airport and on the plane I was getting all sorts of looks, all of which I interpreted as appreciative. Then I got home and checked myself in the mirror. Sure enough I looked like Cameron Diaz’s character in the film, What About Mary?”
My husband just asked if I’d like to go out for a while. I guess in the interest of personal dignity I’ll go plug in the curling iron.
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