If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ll know that I am slightly obsessed with my hair. Perhaps obsessed is a bit strong. Let’s just say that good hair can make a bad day better, for me. And vice versa. That’s because for much of my life I have disliked and sometimes even hated my hair. For many, many years the days when I actually liked my hair were few and far between.

When one has a very round face, big, round, curly hair is not one’s friend. Big, round, curly hair always made my round face look ginormous. Making me look “all head,” as my Mum used to say. This is my attempt, below at age sixteen, to grow my hair long enough to be able to style it into a sleek, smooth pageboy bob. Ha. I can laugh now, people. But at age sixteen this was no laughing matter to me. The seventies was not a good hair decade for me.

Young girl with wild hair.
Pageboy bob attempt.

Then again neither was the eighties. Even in my twenties and thirties I despaired of my hair. This is me and my roommate Debbie, below, in 1981. We are both 25 and single and we’re dressed up for a night out at the disco. We have on sky-high heels and too much make-up. It must have been humid that day because I decided to forgo blowdrying my hair and let it go curly. Oh, dear. My rationale was that a totally curly head was preferable to wasting my time blowdrying and straightening only to have my hair turn into a big frizzy mess once it had reacted to the humidity. In retrospect the big curly head was not that attractive either. I was not having a good hair night, my friends. I was “all head,” to quote my mum. Ha.

Me and a friend in the eighties. Not having a good hair night.
Age 25 all big hair and big head.

I’ve written about my hair numerous times on my blog. There are always more hair stories to tell, it seems. Even people who are not as obsessed with hair as I have always been have hair stories to tell.

When I was teaching creative writing to high school students, I used to tell kids that if they couldn’t think of anything else to write about they should “tell a hair story.” This was a piece of wisdom I gleaned from Natalie Goldberg’s book Writing Down the Bones. And it always worked. I wrote a post about that idea years ago. And in the ensuing years, I often wrote a post about hair, about my ongoing hair journeys, my hair battles, and my hair failures and successes.

I remember one post I wrote in 2017 when I was home with Mum, and my brother was very ill. He died a few months later. But at the time we were sick with worry for him, hoping against hope that he would rally, and I was relieved to be writing about something as silly as hair. In fact that post was triggered by the fact that I was having a good hair day. Sometimes my hair takes pity on me and decides to be good when I really need it to be good.

Good hair days have always had an effect on me that far outweighs the effect they should have. I mean, I have been known to rise from my sick bed to keep a long-standing appointment at the hairdressers because good hair has always been a tonic to me, and bad hair will always make me feel worse.

I have also been known to go to work even when I am feeling like death because I didn’t want to waste a good hair day.

Okay. That is a slight exaggeration. But I do remember one day at work when I mentioned that I was not feeling well, and a male colleague suggested that I should have stayed home. To which I replied, mostly in jest, that I was having a good hair day and didn’t want to waste it. I mean I was having a good hair day. But still, I may have over-egged the pudding.

When one battles with one’s hair all one’s life, one knows that good hair days are few and far between and are not to be sneezed at. Pun intended.

Besides, the fact that I was having a good hair day did much to alleviate the pain of being at work, teaching my classes, and then attending a long meeting when I felt terrible. And anyway, every teacher knows that if you feel ill when you get up in the morning, it’s much easier to go to work than to prepare last-minute lessons for a supply teacher. The good hair was just a bonus.

Oddly enough good hair days are more frequent now that I’m older. Partly because I’m not as critical of myself as I used to be. And partly because my hair has changed now that I am no longer colouring it. As I said in a post last spring, I’m in a good hair place.

All of this is just a preamble to get to the point of my post.

I went to see Carmen yesterday.

You might not know that Carmen is my long-time hairdresser. We’ve been together since 2003. And she always does a fantastic job whether on my colour (when we were doing colour) or on the cut. When I showed up at her place yesterday I was feeling pretty bad. As if I had slid backwards in my Covid journey. And, I kid you not, when I left I felt sooo much better.

Seriously, we’d had a good chat and a couple of laughs, my hair looked fantastic, and physically I felt way better. More energetic. Less defeated by my inability to shake the residual effects of this darned virus. Cheerful, even.

There’s nothing like freshly shorn hair to lift my spirits. Plus Carmen added some lowlights in the front which look great. Perky. Edgy. Dare I say… chill?

I know there are limits to the effects of good hair. I’m not that shallow. I know there are situations when a good haircut will have no effect on my mood or my confidence. I just haven’t encountered one yet.

When I say things like that about hair and feel shallow and a bit silly, I always remember what my mum told me about her grief when her first husband was killed in an accident. She was twenty-three with three children under five. She said she hated all the talking, the solicitous, well-meaning “sorry for your loss” murmurings. And that the one thing she remembered as having a positive effect on her was when her good friend Mary would come and sit by the bed where my mum would be lying down. Mum said Mary didn’t talk much, and eventually she’d get Mum up into a chair and brush her hair, maybe put it in rollers, and then fix it so it looked nice. Mum said it was the only thing that made her feel normal. As if she could go downstairs and face people.

So, I’m not saying that good hair will solve my problems, cure my ills, or make my sadness or grief disappear. But somehow a good hair day always makes me feel better armoured to cope with whatever life has in store.

How about you, my friends? Does the state of your hair have a big effect on you? Or maybe it’s something else that can make you feel better able to face life? Do tell us.

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56 thoughts on “The Limits of Good Hair”

  1. Oh, my goodness. I can relate to this story completely. When I was younger, I hated my thick penny-colored red hair and my mom tried pin curls, perms, pixie cuts and anything else she could think of to boost my confidence. Eventually, I became known as the “little red-haired girl” and when I was in high school the beautician that worked in the pharmacy next to my workplace would call me over to her counter when I shopped. She would hold a lock of her hair next to a lock of my hair and sight that it was not “quite right”. Okay, I was beginning to be okay with being a redhead in the world of California blondes and my hair was darkening to a lovely auburn. Fast forward several decades and the red has pretty much turned to an old penny brown accompanied by slowly fading to white patches. Both grandmothers had striking white hair, at my age I might add, and I want to know What’s Taking So Long For My Hair To Turn White? I’ve contemplated asking my stylist to speed up the process but I just saw a photo of myself that bleached out my hair color due to bad lighting, and well, I don’t think I should do that either. And I haven’t yet mentioned the change in hair texture either. So, like Charlie Brown on the park bench admiring the little red haired girl on the playground, I just might pop a paper bag over my head and call it a day. Thanks for the post and feel better soon.

    1. Chère Sue,
      Il n’y a aucun désarroi qu’une séance chez le coiffeur ne puisse atténuer. J’ai toujours eu des cheveux raides et fins ,d’un châtain terne . Pendant longtemps ,je me suis accrochée a l’idée d’y ajouter des éclats dorés.
      Les résultats ne se sont pas fait attendre ,mes cheveux s’effilochaient et ressemblaient a de la paille de fer .
      Au fil du temps je les ai raccourcis.
      Aujourd’hui j’ai une coupe courte .Malgré mon âge ,et je le dois a ma mère ,j’ai des cheveux châtain avec des mèches plus blanches qui ne doivent rien au coiffeur.
      Et ils se sont épaissis !
      J’ai toujours fait les choses a l’envers !
      A 73 ans j’ai des cheveux satisfaisants .Prenez soin de vous !J’adore vos chroniques

    2. Oh Carol! I almost wrote the exact same post. I am a 67 year old Southern California blue eyed redhead-white white skin, freckled and never a tan. I have a love/hate with my red hair. But now I embrace it-and add a bit of color, as it fades to a darker auburn. I found a hair color that mimics my natural. I recently went to Tulum with a large group-and they got a laugh from my 50 sunscreen. I came back lighter than I left.
      But-hey-we are special, we are rare and we are among the 2% of the world! Embrace our uniqueness .
      English/Irish roots all the way!

    3. Carol, I recently read that a redhead’s hair never goes completely white. I don’t recall where, and I don’t know that it’s a true statement. I raised a redheaded daughter, and I’m quite partial to those so blessed. I’m sure your stylist will have some good ideas about how to enhance what you have, if you really dislike your color!

      My mother and sister both had beautiful white hair, but that is not my fate. I appreciate your frustration.

    4. Red hair has its own journey, doesn’t it? I’ve felt like employing the paper bag on several occasions since getting Covid. White face, white hair… not a good look. Ha.

      1. I love red hair and think Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett. I am 65 and enjoyed the hair article. I have thin, fine hair and wear a bob because it is easy and seems to be the only style my hair will look good in. In my 20-30 age range, I did the long, perms of the 1980 decade and from 1990 on it is just a variety of bobs. I have very little grey but love the all white, short crop you wear Sue. Monday is my long awaited hair appointment. I recently challenged myself to go a year without color or cut, it was tough but so excited to see what new year, new me brings.

  2. On Covid -I tested positive late May 2022 and wasn’t really back to full energy until late November. Out of work for a month and then for a good bit after that needing a noon nap and a good 10 plus hours of sleep/night.

    I was 58 at the time – I tell you this not to scare you, but to unscare you/encourage you to have patience. I’ve known several folks who at the two to three month-mark, moved into deep anxiety, lots of specialist appointments, long-Covid fears. Not to minimize any of their suffering – in fact, during this time I realized how wrong I had been to feel (in my head) that someone I know with a chronic disease would feel better if she would just quit whining and do enough to build her strength. Ugh!! But give yourself time and rest. (And do your hair :)). Nothing like realizing how much I’d taken my good health for granted to make me more compassionate.

    So – rest, don’t panic, and feel better soon!

    1. You story does exactly what you hoped it would do. Makes me feel less alone, and less like a whimp. I can’t imagine going back to work with this stuff hanging on. Just doing my hair and makeup makes me tired. And I like your prescription Dr. K…time, rest, and good hair. 🙂

  3. Oh I so understand your feelings about your hair. I had very fine, curly strawberry blonde hair, for much of my life, until now in my 60’s I am losing my hair. I spent a life time wishing my hair was straight, thicker, darker, paler you name it. Whatever was ‘in’ was never my hair. Now that it is thinning I realize that I love my hair and don’t want to loose it. I have not gone grey, it is a duller strawberry blonde, I find myself on odd days envious of friends with their thick white hair cut in such edgy styles, that mine cannot emulate. I would hope by now to achieved some wisdom and patience, but not where my hair is concerned apparently.
    Your hair always looks great, and I wish you patience to heal and take care as you recover from this virus.

  4. I have always liked my hair, even though it was difficult to style when I was young and I don’t have any skills at all with hair dryers or accoutrements. But I just took it for granted and, anyway, I was far too busy being over-anxious and obsessed with my weight and trying every diet known to woman. I always had good skin as well, taking that for granted. But I had friends who agonised over acne and, like you, big and curly hair, friends who probably deeply envied me both my skin and my hair. Not that I could imagine that, not at all. Now I am much, much older, I still like my hair, still have no ability whatsoever with accoutrements and love going to the hairdresser. Big decisions in my life have always been marked by a new hair style, a sort of acknowledgement of change coming and a real boost to confidence. Perhaps, as humans, we too need the grooming behaviours we see in other mammals and having your hair done is one of them. I am off to have my hair cut later this week and am looking forward to the hot water, lovely shampoo, chat and product that goes on at the end. A simple pleasure.

  5. Oh boy, a good hair day can certainly make me feel ready and able to take on anything! It may sound shallow but it’s true!
    (I wish I could have stored up more of them from days gone by…I don’t think I really appreciated them then!😀)

  6. As a child I had poker straight dark hair & it didn’t do a lot for skinny little me . My mum cut it in a straight line round from my jaw with a heavy fringe . Well I say straight , but it never seemed to be straight . As an adult I would tell her that she should have used scissors instead of a knife & fork . To make things worse I had a beautiful cousin the same age who had a head of enviable loopy curls , almost ringlets . Any family get togethers had everyone fussing over Jennifer’s wonderful hair & treating her like a cuddly little doll . I hope you are all feeling suitably sorry for me . Then came the sixties & I was a skinny teenager with the right kind of hair , long , dark , dead straight & shiny even . It was like a fairy tale ending except it wasn’t the end . There have been many hair struggles since then . Now , I wish my hair was thicker & had more body . I have to work at it & sometimes it’s easier to pull on a hat . So I’m enjoying hats these days .
    Look after yourself & build up your strength slowly . I’ve just finished a book that might keep you occupied – The Twelve Days Of Murder by Andreina Cordani .

    1. Oh god…that bit about the knife and fork made me laugh Wendy. Maybe I should do a post and encourage people to send in photos of past hair experiences. I’d love to see one of you in your sixties hair.

  7. I totally empathise. I had nice blond hair as a young child but by my teens it was a thick, dark mass of auburn and all I could do with it was to tie it back. In my twenties I had it cut short but it was still dark and heavy. It gradually lightened to mouse brown so for years I had streaks of blond put into it but it would throw a red gold colour. With retirement and then covid I dispensed with the colouring and now it is a mixture of mouse, steel grey and white and has a tendency to frizz especially if humid.
    My mother had pure white hair as she aged which was beautiful. I keep hoping mine will do that but I inherited my father’s hair tone, colouring, skin and hands. Sigh!
    Just take it easy in your recovery from covid. This latest variant is a bit stubborn. I’m three months from my last bout and still tire easily. I try to achieve one or two tasks per day but that seems to be it. I manage the essentials and luckily hubby has stepped up to the plate. Take care.

  8. Oh my, your words brought back a flurry of memories, so many hours of simply struggling with my snarky hair!
    My fine, very curly hair went through a flurry of attempts to smooth and attempt styles that it was never meant to be. I did the dippity do paste, hair tape or rolled it on juice cans if I didn’t have rollers large enough. We even tried to sleep in a head full of brush roller with pink picks leaving little grooves in your scalp. The finishing touch was a full back comb followed by tons of aqua net hair spray. If necessary, you would roll your hair in the morning and maybe wrap a scarf around it before running errands. I clearly remember when I transitioned to blow drying my hair. I still see this back combed hair style today.
    My hair today is much longer and therefore offers me more versatility when styling it. I shouldn’t say style because I prefer a more casual look, hair and makeup. I try to go 3 days between shampoos and will put it up in a clip or pony tail on day 3. Maybe a baseball cap is added then too.
    I have been a sucker for all things that promised shiny, smooth obedient hair! I tried various cuts that there was no way my hair would respond like the picture I showed my stylist.
    Now, in my 70’s, I may have come to terms with the limitations of my hair and just how much time I want to devote to its care.
    Bottom line, you’re so correct that we let a bad hair day shadow what should have been a great day. I feel the same about stepping on the scale and seeing an added couple of pounds! Do we want to have these negative feelings cloud our ability to enjoy an otherwise beautiful day? Life’s too short.

    1. I always wanted what I couldn’t have too, Jan. One good thing I have noticed since retirement and since I’ve been walking for exercise… hats are great for taming my hair when it’s being snarky. Especially wooly winter hats.

  9. I’ve tried several times to add a clever comment here. Suffice it to say, “l relate!”, but from the perspective of Asian, thick, straight hair. The old adage of wanting what we don’t have is true. You’d be appalled at what I’ve spent on perms!
    Today, I’m thankful for my straight, thick hair maintained so well by my stylist, Tracy, in a very short pixie. No color. Just an excellent scissor cut that brings out my salt & pepper graying.
    Thanks for bringing up some fun memories and a few “What was I thinking!?!” moments.

  10. Sue, I enjoyed this post – particularly the story about your mum, which was touching.

    I don’t have particularly spectacular hair, but it was always a perfectly nice brown colour; fine in texture, but I have a lot of it. I never worried about it much, although I did occasionally dream of being a classic redhead or a girl wth shining, raven-coloured hair (too much Anne of GG). I’ve always found cutting my hair off into a short cut gave me a feeling of something that I call empowerment, but which was really more a feeling of matching the rebelliousness inside with the outside, although short cuts can be limiting on me. It’s taken me more than fifty years to accept that what my hair really wants to be is in a classic bob.

    I’m struck by comments here about our need for grooming rituals, and others about how other features can be something that put a damper on our mood (e.g. weight). I always hated my nose, which is not perfectly straight, and envied people with beautiful noses, but then I had a weird epiphany when I was in my twenties and living in Australia. I’d just been dumped by my Australian boyfriend and was visiting a friend in Sydney. We’d gone into a café and I was in the bathroom, where for some reason they had mirrors on every wall and probably the ceiling. I caught a glance of myself from an unusual angle and thought, “Who is that pretty girl?” and then realized, “Oops. That’s me.” Suddenly I realized that all of the parts – some nicer than others – came to make a whole that was just fine. That’s only been reinforced as I’ve aged, as we all know people who we think are beautiful who are not supermodels: they glow and shine not because their nose is straight or their hair thick and glossy in a perfect cut, but because of the whole package of who they are. To answer your question though: my best feature is my eyes and I have long eye lashes, so I can always pick myself up to face the world by curling my eyelashes and putting on some mascara!

    Hope you start feeling more energetic soon, but it sounds as though patience is key with recovery from this thing.

    1. Suz from Vancouver

      Stephanie, I love that:
      “ Suddenly I realized that all of the parts – some nicer than others – came to make a whole that was just fine. ”

      Sue
      I can definitely relate to bad hair days. I always find it surprising when I’ve been threatening my hair with a cut all week, it finally “plays nice” the morning of the appointment.

      Hope you feel all better soon!
      Suz from Vancouver

    2. That is such a great epiphany to have, Stephanie. It’s all about the whole package. That’s one reason why I hate to see beautiful women mess with different parts of their face through plastic surgery. They never look like their beautiful selves again.

  11. Hair. Sigh. I certainly can relate to so many of the comments. I yearned for the long flowing straight hair in the 60s when mine was a unruly curly exploding mess. And my dark brown hair did not match my skin coloring. Thank heavens for talented hair dressers! They are artists. When I retired I moved and it took three years to find one who totally understood my hair. I lucked out and have my mothers silver hair which now matches my skin color.

  12. As a 6 feet tall very thin teenager with stick-straight hair, and much too much of it at that, all I wanted was curly and thinner hair. I dreamed about it for years. At 28, it went totally white and everyone was raving over my “colored” hair which I had to tell them, with a big smile on my face, that it was natural. What luck, finally! At menopause, I did lose some thickness and, worried, saw a dermatologist, who told me that “some people would kill for my thick hair!” Since then I have learned to accept/love my hair. Now, at 83, I can worry about some other part of my not perfect body. Happy holidays to all. Thanks, Sue, for the great blog. I truly enjoy it.

  13. Kismet! I went to my hairdresser yesterday and brought three photos of YOUR HAIRCUT, which I’d copied from your blog posts recently. My hairdresser looked at the photos and said no, my hair is too fine, too dark, too whatever. She refused to cut it the way I wanted it — and this, after 25 years together — so I made up my mind to divorce my hairdresser. My sense is, I’m no longer considered a person worthy of being made attractive. Or trendy. Or, God forbid, sexy. So, I’m gathering my sense of self and moving on. And yes, clearly I’m invested in how my hair makes me feel.

    1. Oddly, Carmen thins my hair to make it look like it does. If your hairdresser doesn’t get you, or the you you want to project, I’d divorce her too. But don’t be too quick to jump ship. Maybe first ask her if she has any ideas about trendy, edgy cuts.

  14. Oh hair! It has such power over us, doesn’t it? My story started with the famous bowl cut my mom gave me all through grade school until I was old enough to put up some resistance and grow my hair in high school. With very thick, very coarse, slightly wavey dark brown hair I struggled! With out the luxury of blow dryers and flat irons at the time and trying to straighten my hair using a clothes iron (can you smell the scorched hair?) And rolling my hair with soup can curlers (how uncomfortable not to mention unattractive lol). Oh how I would envy those girls with hair that fell to their shoulders in a straight shiny curtain!

    Now to present day. At 70 I decided it was time to let my natural hair grow out. Curiosity and COVID were my motivators. Both my mom and grandma had gorgeous white hair that I hoped to emulate. I’m almost there as the front of my hair is white but I still have a bit of salt and pepper in the back and only now am I fully appreciating the thickness and texture. I keep it fairly short like you Sue. I rarely have to blow it dry and with a quick touch of a straight iron and a spritz of hair spray I’m out the door! Such a great topic this week. We all have had hair insecurities at one time or other! Lol

    So enjoy your blog! Hope your present COVID struggles come to an end soon Sue!

    1. I remember using the iron on my hair as a teenager too. Or I had my friend do it. And I had a shiny curtain, albeit a short one, for the dance that night. What a great invention were straightening irons!!

  15. I’ve always been very happy with my hair. I have had bad hair days too but I could always fall back on the fact that my hair was nice dark brown and very thick! well, fast forward to age 75 and my hair is thinning on top (the same pattern of men going bald), and in the crown. I use a thickening gel to make my hair look thicker. I could use Minoxidol but I hear that it makes your hair greasy. Who wants greasy hair? Not me. Plus, if you stop using it, your hair starts to fall out again. I am trying vitamins to help stave off the loss of hair. On a good hair day, I feel beautiful, but on a bad hair day, I don’t.

  16. Oh my! I relate to having way too much connection between my hair and my mood/confidence/ on a particular day. I thought it was just me, so it is refreshing to hear someone else (especially someone with hair I consider spectacular!) that relates in a possibly inappropriate manner to the state of their hair. I have lots of fine, super straight hair that refuses to curl. Thankfully I have a lot of fine hair, but I often say that my hair never grew up – child’s hair. I have to use hairspray to tell it where to go and stay put, otherwise the slightest wind has it in a whirl and a new, unwanted hairstyle emerges. Thanks for the opportunity to vent my inappropriate relationship with my hair. I often approach total strangers with curly, wavy hair and tell them how much I admire their curls. Predictable, they always say they have always coveted straight hair. Whatever, I want curly hair in heaven!

  17. strangely my hair life has been the opposite of yours. until about 50 i had dark brown glossy hair which sat where it was put and just about every day was a good hair day. i never coloured it and it grew like a weed so i could change styles whenever i felt like it. i am now going grey but not beautifully like you.. oh no.. i am like one of those moggy cats with patches everywhere. my very dark hair is only about a quarter grey and i dont suit colour with red in it… and every brown dye goes red after two washes…. sigh
    your story about your mothers hair touched my heart. my partner died suddenly and the first day i felt almost normal afterwards was my first hairdresser visit. I cant imagine how incredibly difficult it must have been for her so very young.

    1. My mum had thick straight hair just like my grandfather’s. And if she lay on one side she’d have a hair bump that was difficult to dislodge. I’ve always loved that story about her friend fixing her hair.

  18. I enjoyed this post so much, Sue. Who would have thought that someone as attractive as you would have ever NOT loved her hair?

    When my sisters and I were young, my mother kept our hair hacked off and with very short, unattractive bangs. It was traumatizing, and we all hated it. I believe she did this to save herself time. As I got older, I started letting it grow long, I suppose to make up for how ugly it was before. Through the years, I tried “hair dos” and different hair cuts and perms. Now I am 65 with nearly-waist long hair and have no intention of ever cutting it again, although I do get trims and keep the ends tidy. It is still the same blonde as when I was a teenager, but now it’s due to some help and magic from my wonderful hairdresser. I am thankful to HAVE hair and don’t give it much thought.

    The story about your mother was so touching and sweet; I’m glad you shared it here.

  19. Oh, hair! I too always complained about my fine, straight blonde hair. It would never hold a curl or any volume, especially in rainy Vancouver so I had a lifetime of variations of a chin length bob. When some chemo caused all my hair to fall out for a short time, I was excited about the possibility chemo curls. But no! My hair came in fine and straight but really dark, almost black, on the sides and back. The top came in white and also dark but frizzy, no defined curls. No idea where the dark hair has come from but I wish I could have a hair mulligan.

    1. Gad. That is quite a hair journey, Shaza. My sister has stick-straight hair and has bad memories of pigtails when she was a child, and my mum trying to get them to curl. 🙂

  20. Back in the 70s when I was in junior high school, all the girls (well, it seemed like all) had long, straight hair parted down the middle. This was not a look I could pull off having thick, naturally curly hair. Mom tried rolling my hair in orange juice cans. My best friend and I would iron our hair. It was a constant, never-ending battle. At the end of 7th grade, a teacher awarded me the “fair-haired weather girl” prize because, as she explained, you could tell the weather by the state of my hair. Ugh! I was humiliated beyond belief and it took me many, many years to live down that horrible, and in my mind, shameful moment. Fast forward to adulthood … learned to embrace and love my hair. I’m transitioning to gray now and am enjoying that. I’m also very thankful for all of the products and tools that are now available that weren’t around when I was young!

  21. You were certainly a lovely youngster, eh? The kind of looks that last, too. And yes hair, I had friends with the straight waterfalls of hair and was envious but with tons of fine curly/frizzy/wavy it clearly wasn’t happening. I wore it short in my 40s/50s and never in all that time had a cut I didn’t dislike. Then I stopped with the cutting, suffered through a couple years of in-between length and now it is long and braided. Not glam but easy and I never actively hate it. Do wish the color would move on from the current grey tan to practically anything else, but coloring a yard of hair isn’t an option either.

    Anyway, its all very therapeutic to see that so many are not hair-contented, but also rather sad that so much energy over the years went to something non-happiness producing.

    Ceci

  22. I got a big horse laugh out of this one!! Woke up the parrots at the other end of the house.

    In antiques business. The wife of a fellow dealer, a Nathaniel Hawthorne Yankee schoolmarm, did not like my hair. It’s wavy and bluesy at the best of times and she was always on me to comb it. Looked the same after said combing. When she died, you had to have an invitation to attend her funeral.

    I didn’t get one. She was unloved by her husband, maybe that’s why she was like she was.

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