I was pulling on a crocheted beanie this morning, because it was cold out and because I was going to venture into public (read: go to the local lab for my weekly blood test for warfarin), and it occurred to me that over a year ago I had nicely bobbed hair. Shampoo was necessary. Trims were necessary. And roughly six months before everything went tits-up, I was still wearing very long braids and thoroughly sick of that weight on my neck. No dye or henna or anything needing touch-ups, just simple hair like mom had.
Speaking of mom, Happy Birthday, Susan
Hair is one of those things which connects me to mom. Her hair was long enough to sit on when I was born and she took to pinning it up because I took to trying to climb up her back using it like rope. Dark blonde flecked with gray. She had it pinned up until I got my hair cut right before 7th grade. When she went to the same hairdresser she said ‘no thanks!’ when he offered to braid it and save the braid for her. Short hair suited her, and she started dyeing it red. When I had a tail in the back like a lot of 80s kids, she’d share some of her dye and I was this little blonde with a strawberry tail. Which was as punk as she allowed in 1982. Then high school happened and I had an asymmetrical skater cut, which was by turns tinted purple (baby goth, ha), fire engine red, carrot red, burgundy, etc. Skater cut, then bobbed.
As the peach fuzz s-l-o-w-l-y grows, the thing I miss is fidgeting with my hair. Not out of vanity so much as fun. I’m thinking skater cut when it is long enough to trim