The monkey made me do it

Party in the front, business in the back

I consider my hair to be another thing that I am able, nay, obligated to paint and chop on a regular basis. Not out of vanity, but as more of an experiment in color and style accomplished conveniently on my own head (I'd do it on other people, but am too opinionated to be a hairstylist and too wild to make up anyone other than drag queens). Hair is a canvas few can equal, flexible and able to be multi-hued with the option of just cutting it all off if it doesn't turn out well. I have personally gone extra light (white-blonde), dark (a brown/black called "espresso") (mmm), half-and-half, attempted to go blue (note: do not dye your hair with Kool-Aid).

As you may have surmised by now, my hair hasn't been its natural color since the early 90's. I'm not even sure at this point what the natural color would be if I let it grow out.

My longsuffering mother used to war with me over how tomboyish I was allowed to become. I wanted to be dirty and messy, she had other plans and was constantly trying to brush out my long, thick, pine-needle-bedecked hair. It hurt a lot. I hollered a lot. Finally, she decided to cut it all off and end the battle - and cut it herself no less (can you say revenge?)! My first grade photo is hilarious, I have short hair sticking out in many directions and if you look really close you can see a hint of tree sap still lingering on the edges. There was a (mercifully) short period in the late 80's where I attempted to rebel against the natural straightness and force my hair into the perms and spirals and walls of tall teased goodness that were populating the schools. I had to stop after three perms in a two-week period left my head burning and my hair still angrily straight. That was my one attempt at peer pressured style conformation, now that I think about it. An International News sweatshirt (pink with white lettering) and frazzled hair. Then my priorities shifted back closer to reality and I started growing it out, allowing it to finally reach my waist in a long blonde curtain that still tangled on occasion and was normally in a ponytail (hey, soccer plus marching band does not equal glamour). This was the last time it was "natural", my senior year of high school.

When I left home, I didn't think about my hair at all (this didn't go over so well in Texas). Almost no one is natural there - it was an offense for me to have long, unstyled locks and no makeup (I also wore my pajamas to class but that was a more overt slacker call to arms). My so-called friends at the end of freshman year kidnapped me and forced me to cut it off at my chin, dyed it blonder, and tried to teach me the wonder of curlers and hairspray. Having gone there already in junior high, I merely reapplied my no-touch styling technique to the shorter cut. The "friends" all went into sorority houses the next year, so I was spared the worry of hurting their feelings with my non-crispy head. Coming out of college, I started to lose the tomboy inclination a little and was concerned with how I looked (somehow the Texans had rubbed off on me). I grew out my hair and experimented with dyeing it brown/black. I loved it, finally felt that my hair looked right with my coloring (natural blonde + dark brows and lashes always made people ask me if I dyed it). This led to further experimentation - layered cuts, highlights. Dyeing back to blonde but with surfer-bright streaks. My parents never knew what I would look like when I came to visit. They gave up on trying to keep a current picture around and instead started marking time by my hair color ("Oh yeah, the bleach-blonde summer of '99"). The age of experimentation came to a head when I went in to get a haircut and decided to go ahead and chop it all off. Yes, all. I had no research, no photos of inspiration, just a thought that had been bubbling in the back of my mind saying how great it would be to have boy-short hair (it's fun, showers take no time, people will think I'm a lesbian and I won't have to worry so much about being flirted with).

The kind lady at Rudy's looked at me with horror when I asked her to break out the big shears. She cut a little bit (to my ears) and asked if I wanted more. I said yes, lots. She cut a little more. I finally indicated a length of about 1 to 1 1/2 inches on top and told her to taper it down to nothing. I loved it. I found styling products that let me chunk it up into a semi-punk 'do, made it dark brown. When I went to visit my parents for the first time, I met them in the church service and when I stood next to my mother, she didn't recognize me. My nephew thought I was one of my brother's friends. Then once he found out it was me, he wanted to get his hair cut like mine! The lesbian man-aversion idea didn't work, though. I got hit on even more with the new hair, the only change was that there were men AND women doing the hitting. But I found that dancing was much easier without the mass to whip around and that I was unfortunately no longer able to leave the house without putting some sort of product in my hair (unless I wanted to look like a big fuzzy Q-tip). I kept it for over a year, then started growing everything back out to the current length. I like being able to wear ponytails again, but it is tempting sometimes when the length is irritating me, particularly on hot days or when it's hanging down in my eyes, to grab the scissors and go to town. Not sure that I'd ever go that short again, though - imagine the year-plus growout where my hair was in a constant awkward-teenage state (not quite a girl, not yet a woman).

It's funny, I can tell my mental state by what haircut/color was in evidence at the time. I wonder if this is common? Of course these would be different for different people, but I have heard of several women who have cut off most of their hair as a statement of various things. Or dyed it blonde (to, of course, have more fun) or brown (to be taken seriously, a.k.a. have less fun). Girls are weird. But I figured it out:

Long, tangled, natural = Tomboy. Rebellious.

Mom-short, natural = Subdued, school nervousness. Attempt to be girly.

Perm-fried, teased, natural = BIG attempt to be girly, unhappy with self and hurting head.

Long, natural = Tomboy again, but less. Unconcerned with hair. Happier.

Friends-short, blonde = Pressured, unhappy. Experimenting with conformity (blech)

Multi-length, Multi-colored = Experimenting with self, playing with personal presentation (what side of me do I show today?)

SHORT, brown = Seeing what it's like to jump off a cliff. Enjoying the experience. Giving the finger to peer pressure. Rebellious and trying to show my identity without social predefined boundaries.

Longer, brown = Realizing that the statement has been made. Now enjoying being girlyish with tomboy undercurrent. Happy.

posted by LadyJay @ 10:04 AM