I know how Samson felt…….

I have had many challenges in my life. For example, right now, I’m unemployed, unattached and overweight. However, the biggest challenge has been my hair. You think I’m joking. But this is a very serious matter. After all, I AM a girl.

When I was young, I had reddish brown, kinda curly hair.. which turned browner as I got older.
As a small child my sister Barb and I were subjected to what we now call “the cruel haircuts”. My mother would take us to Towers (a precursor to Zellers) and have the “stylist” (I use the term oh so loosely..)cut our hair SHORT. My mother, being part Scottish and thrifty, would economically trim our hair between “salon” visits (again, a term used loosely). We swear that she actually put bowls on our heads. This was all due to the fact that my mother did not like to comb out tangles. For the first several years of my life, I believe most people thought I was a boy who liked dolls. Thus began the horrible scarring on my psyche regarding my hair.

Once our youngest sister, Lara, was born, SHE was allowed to have LONG hair. She was blonde. And apparently her hair was so fine that my mother “didn’t have the heart to cut it.” Uh huh. No favouritism there. Nope, not at all. Nope. Not bitter. nope.

My hair challenges continued. For some reason I was allowed to decide how I wanted my own hair cut. Thus began many years of bad decisions. Or rather.. bad communication between myself and the “hairstylists” at the Towers “salon”. It was bound to happen. Most of them did not speak english, after all.

Thus, in grade 2 I was allowed to tell the nice lady how I wanted my hair cut. And therefore ended up with a shag rivalling David Cassidy’s. This became a recurring theme in my life. I would describe to the “hair stylist” that I would like layers.. etc… and I would end up with a shag. In grade five, my mother attempted to force my hair into a “bubble cut”… all smooth and turned under… I believe the only time she was successful was for my grade 5 class picture. Other than that, as soon as the slightest bit of humidity hit, my hair would go fuzzy. The joys of having naturally wavy hair.

Regular hair cut time was usually the week before school started… and the summer before grade 8 was no different. I asked for my hair to be layered a la the Farah Fawcett look that was popular during the time. And once again, ended up with the ever popular shag… and hence looking like the bastard offspring of David Cassidy and Woody of the Bay City Rollers.

Of course, during the times I had these horrific hair styles, there were other, prettier girls with long flowing locks. THEY were the ones that the boys thought were attractive and asked out. I was the one with the bad hair.

And so we hit high school.. through most of which I had the whole Farah flippy thing going on during grade nine. Which AT THE TIME was super attractive. In retrospect, not so much…. mind you, it is during this same period that my mother.. she of the cruel haircuts, was delivered hair karma. My little Irish-Scottish mother had a full blown afro. I believe I shall have to find that photo to share as it is truly priceless.

Grade ten.. a few days before school starts.. once again at Towers for the hair cut. Yes, you think I would have learned by this point and gone somewhere more reputable. However, apparently I am somewhat slow. Must have been all those head injuries.

I get the haircut. It’s even worse than the regular shag. The top of my hair is literally on end. I AM a Bay City Roller. It is hideous. To hide the fact that my hair is horribly cut, I purchased a Toni home permanent kit for my mother to use on my horribly spiky melon. Yes, it disguises the awful haircut, but as a result I look like Minnie Mouse in my grade ten photo. Surprisingly, I did get a boyfriend with this hideous hair mess. And no, he was not from the school for the blind.

Eventually my perm calmed down and the short hair pieces grew out and I finished high school with decent pretty hair. During the college years I somehow felt it was a good idea to go “short”.. which will never, ever happen again. I look far too much like my father. And I really don’t dig it when people call me “John”. For years my ex-husband tried to convince me to cut my hair off.. he LOVES short hair on girls. Then I showed him a pic of me with short hair to which he responded “if you looked like that when I met you, I never would have asked you out.”

Enough said.

I do not suit short hair. I look better with long hair. I’ve gone through long curly perms during the 80’s.. I could’ve rivalled the guys from Poison with my big hair.. long straight hair with big bangs… went back to the flippy hair during the 2001-2002 period (what goes around comes around, so to speak..).. all in all.. I’ve had a lot of different hair. And I like it long. That is the way I like it best.. that is the way I think it looks best on me, feel prettiest.. get the most compliments, etc. My hair is important to me. It is my friend.

A few years ago, I developed alopecia. I was under a lot of stress and my hair started falling out. Ever since then my hair has not been super healthy… takes a while for it to come back.

Again, this past year, I’ve had a lot of stress in my life and once again I’ve found that my hair has suffered as a result. Plus, I’ve had some “hair accidents”. Living in the north, I’ve had a couple of awful haircuts. Then at one point I was using a curling brush on my hair and when I took it out thought to myself “hmm.. there’s a lot of hair in there…” and then after smelling the burning, realized the curling brush had burnt a huge hunk of hair off the right side of my lid.


So. This week I was looking at my hair. Yes, it was long, but it was poorly cut, and in bad condition. I researched some salons and made an appointment.

I enjoyed the salon.. it’s in Barrie.. it’s an Aveda salon. She gave me an excellent scalp massage.. I was enjoying my surroundings… I explained what I wanted her to do.. she showed me how much she was going to cut off .. about 2 inches.. and then she started cutting.. and cutting.. and cutting. I was getting nervous.

Then she blow dried it.. it looked all right.. she had given me thicker bangs… My old ones always were “iffy”.. and it still looked long enough… but then she broke out the scissors again…..
When she was done, it was ok…. but….

Too short. I felt like I was back in high school and got the really bad haircut again. Sad.
My daughter liked it. My son did not. A couple of friends said “it’s okay, it will grow back”…. which essentially means “you are right, it’s not that good.”

Today was a new day…. I washed and styled it myself. It smells good.. that’s a plus. Positives: it’s a better cut, it’s neater, my bangs sit better… it looks healthier… and it will grow.
Negatives: it’s too short for me. I feel like Samson.. like I lost my sex appeal with the haircut… Now I look “professional”. *sigh* Could be worse.

Oh well. I’ll look good for job interviews. This will put a dent in the “LOVE” section I think … but at least I don’t look like one of the Bay City Rollers…

Life: I spent far too much on my hair.
Love: Meh.
Pants: No change. Been good with the working out though.

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