I have been growing my hair out for quite some time now in a vain effort to recapture my youth, but now that it is ponytail length? THAT’S ALL I DO WITH IT.
Hair hanging in my face? PONYTAIL!
Too lazy to blow dry it in the morning? PONYTAIL!
Don’t feel like washing my hair for a week? PONYTAIL!
A wise woman once said, “Women of a certain age have no business wearing long hair.”
That wise woman is my hairdresser, Rosalie. Had she been young and perky, I would have smacked her, but she is also “of a certain age” so we had a party with my hair instead.
Pretend not to notice my hair’s Sahara Desert quality. Rosalie chastised me (“How long have you been coming to me now and you are still using Suave?”) into investing in a super-hydrating shampoo and conditioner so I will soon have a glossy and fetching mane.
(Don’t tell, but I opted for Biotera, the fake Biolage, because the beauty supply didn’t carry any of the recommended brands and the sales girl assured me generic shampoo is JUST LIKE generic drugs at the pharmacy. If all my hair falls out, I’ll take pictures.)
My hair looks like a big ole bird’s nest above because I am experimenting with my natural curls, also known as “goddammed wavy hair.” Until I master my new ‘do, I shall enjoy not having hair hanging down the back of my neck and the ease of a wash-and-go style.
I predict many wet-look hair days in my future.
