Last March, I started growing my hair out, a process I generally despise. It’s awkward, messy, annoying, and, come summer, hot. Too short to put up but too long to be on the neck when the temperature soars. Yuck.

Why bother? When, in her mid-thirties, my mother cut her hair, , she explained that she was too old for long hair, that long hair was for younger women. I digested this bit of adult-lore, grew mine out (painfully) only to cut it off a few years later, tired of all that, well, hair. I repeated the process in college, this time after a socially crippling perm– think brunette Bozo.

After the birth of my older son, each haircut found me with less and less of the stuff. It reached its shortest at the start of 2008, right before I started the growing process for a third time. Why’d I bother if it’s such a pain? Partially, it was a last-ditch attempt to save my marriage. “Grow out your hair,” and, “Dress up more often,” were the only concrete ideas I brought out of marriage counseling. Despite knowing neither would save the day, I tried both. And I liked the results. Sure, the hair was hot on my neck last summer, and barrettes did little to tame growing out layers that threatened to turn me part Yeti, but I liked messing with the stuff and the progress visible in the mirror. Besides, between growing hair, encouraging the holes in my ears to once again accept earrings, and trying some more feminine duds, I felt, well, attractive.

There. I said it. I’m enjoying some of the societal trappings of femininity. Skirts, dangly earrings, long hair, clothes that suggest a woman is wearing them. Girl stuff, or, more correctly, women stuff. No high heels or make-up, mind you. Comfort trumps fashion for me, and it likely always will. But the hair? I like it!


4 thoughts on “Hair

  1. I'm smiling at your post. It's probably obvious that I like the feminine stuff. I've gotten a few rude stares at a certain place we both frequent before because of my audacity in wearing a dress on occasion. What some people (men) don't seem to get is that I do not dress up for others, I do it for me. I like to find myself attractive, perhaps because I never had the self confidence to do so when I was younger. After a self-loathing teenage existence I finally realized that hey, I AM pretty. And now I'll be damned if anyone wants to give me grief for enjoying that. Oops, I think I just blog-jacked you… Sorry!

  2. Thanks for the thoughts! Doing it for ourselves is THE reason to do it. I have many more thoughts regarding the feminine, and I'll blog on that soon.

  3. I am alternately feeling empowered and frustrated by this fact of life: that others define us, in large part, by how we dress and fix our hair. I suppose I'm one of those hard-to-get-to-know people; over the years, when I have chosen to reveal things about myself to friends and extended family, they've said, "I didn't have you pegged for that," or, "I didn't know we had so much in common." It's too bad that so many people make assumptions and maintain prejudices; I imagine they, as a result, miss out on alot in life. Personally, I hope to someday reach a point where my TRUE self finally shines through; perhaps we all are!

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