In the past two years my hair has gone from being this curly:
to what could only be called “wavy” if you’re feeling generous. My hair has betrayed me, and now I don’t know what to do with it.
In the winter I cut it even shorter, hoping for a Jean Seberg look:
But, in the words of the wife in a Hemingway short story*, “I get so tired of looking like a boy.”
It’s been nearly 10 years since I had long hair; I didn’t do anything special with my hair when it was long (although it was curly then, AHEM, HAIR); and I know I would hate growing it out. But. I find myself staring at pictures of braids and long glossy hair and echoing that Hemingway character:
“I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel. . . . And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes.”
In other words, I don’t know what I want.
*The story is “Cat in the Rain,” from In Our Time.
Remind me to tell you the story of finding someone’s wig in the dryer in the shared laundry room here…not my favorite memory. No sir.
For what it’s worth I love the hair you’re rocking now. Long hair is boring. Just go buy a good wig!