Bad Hair Day

As agile as I might seem when doing craft work, I am all thumbs when it comes to hair. I have never managed the art of using a blow dryer or a curling iron. So it’s no surprise that I have let my hair grow long, to the point where all I need is an elastic band or a clip to hold it back.

I was disgusted with myself for taking this cop out, for not caring how I looked. I would see other “older” women, maybe mature is a better word, with the same style and couldn’t help but think how unflattering that style was. I needed some hair around my face to soften the look. I decided I needed bangs.

 

 

Yeah, right.

Here’s the thing, I have a bit of a phobia. I hate hair salons, feel very tense and uncomfortable in one, and always have. I’ve tried different places over the years, thinking if I had one stylist, I might be more at ease. Problem was I never went often enough to build on that relationship. Sigh.

Last week I decided to trim the bangs I’d had a while ago, (when I had once before thought I needed bangs), and I started to snip away.

 

 

 

 

 

 I pulled the hair together between my eyes and started to cut, snipping away a little at a time. The problem was I couldn’t quite get it even, so I had to snip some more.

When I looked in the mirror I had to laugh. I was transported back, remembering a time my mother had cut my bangs, shorter and shorter until they were more than halfway up my forehead and finally even. I wish I the picture of that horrible look, I can see it so clearly in my mind.

My grandfather was taking our photos, my sister and I dressed in matching grey dresses with a bright red sash. I was not a happy camper, and my facial expression showed just how unhappy I was with the whole thing…haircut, posing and photos.

 

 

As mothers I think we are doomed to repeat some of the evils done to us by our mothers, onto our own daughters. I also remember cutting my daughter’s bangs, and being determined to get it right. I’m sure my mother said the same thing to me as I probably said to my daughter. “It’ll grow back.” Not really reassuring words at the time.

I learned a few lessons the day I cut my hair. One, when you lean forward, and raise your eyebrows to look up so you can see the hair you’re cutting, it’s not an accurate measure of how long those bangs will actually be. And two, cutting your hair wet, it dries shorter. I look like some hausfrau from the forties or fifties.

Next week I’m going to a hair salon, I’m going to be brave, and I’m going to get it all cut off short. At least that’s what I’m thinking today. I’ll keep you updated.