The topic of hair leads the list of everyday challenges for humankind. Is there any other body part so regularly fussed over and featured? Note: while writing, I’ve entered a brain bubble called “denial” to pretend that I’m living in a post-COVID universe where all we have time to complain about is our hair. Plus, the re-opening of hair salons in my neighborhood has bolstered me with enough courage to expand on hair, in all of its timeless (and annoying) glory.
Now, on with my bubble: we have either too much or too little of this exasperating dead protein. And wherever hair grows, it’s never quite the right color or texture or length.
Fashion choices are extensive: you can braid, bleach and back comb; consider a cut, crimp and curl; flip, fluff and feather if ya got it; perm or straighten; and finally, trim and tint ‘til the cows come home. Or, more likely, until you run out of money. Hair care is spendy!
For unwanted hair, you can laser, pluck, shave, sugar, and wax. Hair is constantly in the process of coming or going. Not long enough? Walk into your salon short and severe; walk out long and luxurious with Lady Godiva extensions.
At least there’s gender equality in our suffering. Men deal with eyebrows that join to form a uni-brow, five o’clock shadows that arrive before noon, and backs with enough hair to keep a horse warm through winter. Worse, hair sprouts from ears and nostrils yet gives up the follicle ghost where most needed – on top.
If your head is beyond hope, you can fake it with falls and wigs. There’s also instant hair in a spray can for those shy spots, but better hope your date doesn’t decide to run a few fingers through your locks. Spray-on hair is a serious form of false advertising.
More recently there’s a battalion of ‘manscapers’ across the globe who define ‘tidy’ for women and men alike as no pubic hair. None. Now ‘clean’ I can understand, but tidy?!
“Have you done something with your hair?” is a loaded question. If the word order is altered – “WHAT have you done with your hair?” – the observation becomes more insult than compliment. Those critiques should be reserved for concerned parents and brave partners. True friends will love your hair, no matter how badly you destroy it, even when they’re thinking, “Yikes! What size bowl did you use for that hatchet job?”
Mother Nature and her pixie tricks have created an unfair handbook on hair. Where you want it, hair grows skimpier or not at all, and where you don’t want it, it reappears within days. The true winners are manufacturers who sell hair their add and subtract products along with the advertisers who convince you to buy them.
If anyone knows any good jokes, please send them my way. I’d appreciate a detour from hair screaming for a touch-up, eyebrows aching for an arch, legs longing for a shave, and other parts waiting for an eye-watering wax.
Time to slip on a ball cap so I can enjoy this hairy bubble while it lasts.
And stay back! Everything looks better from a safe distance of six feet.
Freedom Trail Studio