i hate my hair

Little Laura in 2nd grade

When I was a little girl I had long thick hair. I wore it in pigtails or braids and for special occasions pulled back and tamed into a bun. I loved everything about it except for one thing – having the tangles brushed out of it.  I was a fairly active young’un - climbing trees, riding my bike, roller skating – all activities that would make my hair a knotty mess.  My mom was not particularly patient when brushing my hair or sympathetic with me as the tears streamed down my face when she was trying to smooth my “rat’s nest.”

 

Eventually she came up with a solution to the problem. She took me and my sister Ginger to get our hair cut. This was in the late sixties and the new style was a “pixie” cut.

Twiggy in the 60's

Mind you, she didn't ask if I wanted a haircut – she told me I was getting a haircut. The first time I saw myself in the mirror, I was horrified. I looked like a buck-toothed little boy – oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I was buck-toothed. It was awful.  My hair was thick and fuzzy so it didn't lie smooth and straight like Twiggy's. I was so upset with my mom. Look what she did to me...

There I am - the eldest sister looking like a brother

So began the torturous relationship with my hair. When we moved to Indiana, the humidity in the Midwest turned my hair into something like a Brillo pad. So there I was - the new girl in the 6th grade with awful hair. It affected everything about me - I had zero self confidence and always felt ugly. 

6th grade - my awkward phase lasted for a VERY LONG TIME

Eventually, I figured out how to make do and although I never felt pretty, I escaped feeling hideous. However, I also envied those girls with with the straight and shiny blonde hair...sigh....

At 20 years old - less than hideous

I have worn my hair at a variety of lengths and degrees of texture from wavy to curly and frizzy. I have used every type of gel and mousse and hairspray imaginable. I have tried to straighten it, curl it or style it but have never been terribly adept at it. I should never have complained about it because now it's falling out. I should have been happy with what I had! Anyway, I am fed up with it. I have decided that I can't wear it at the length I have been.  Believe me when I tell you that when I am giving Ron his haircuts, I am always tempted to turn the clippers on myself, but I'm not sure that I can rock the bald look!

I am hoping for a haircut and a new style this weekend - we'll see if I can convince Denise to cut it as short as I really want it. Not so short that I look like a buck-toothed boy, but short enough that I don't feel like a middle-aged woman who is trying to hold onto her youth by holding onto her hair. We shall just see, won't we? If it doesn't work out, I've been thinking about investing in a couple of wigs....