Back in my mid 30s, after having Callie and going back to teaching full-time while wrangling the demands of motherhood, I decided to give short hair a try. Up to that point my hair had been anywhere from shoulder length to halfway down my back. I had worn it straight or permed my whole life, but had never been tempted to cut off any serious length.
Rhonda, my stylist at the time, told me I should cut it progressively shorter each time I came in to get my color done. So every 6-7 weeks I had a bit more taken off until it looked like this. Talk about a blast from the past when I found this pic. OMG - where are the wrinkles? And what about the turkey waddle neck I've developed lately? Maybe I need to keep my hair longer as camo for the aging that seems to be moving forward by leaps and bounds these days.
I happily wore my hair this length for about five years. Then I hit the big 4-0. I figured that if I ever wanted to have longer hair again, then I had best get busy growing it. And you know the deal - middle aged lady trying to grow out her hair. Her hair that's now much thinner than in her youth thanks to perimenopause. Her hair that's got a bunch of whites covered in brown hair dye that give it a different texture not so easily tamed. Her hair that requires an investment of vitamins and various hair products to aid in the growing out process. Three years later, my hair is a bit past my shoulders.
Lately I've been wondering what I should do with my hair now that I've gotten it this far. Side ponytails and french braids are appropriate for my teenager, but not terribly attractive on a lady my age. I don't like the reality check that I've spent YEARS growing out my hair to end up just pushing it behind my ears to get it out of the way. I wish I could say I was up for some high maintenance hairstyling, but I'm just not.
I had mentioned going short again to the family and they didn't think it was a good idea. If I had the thick and lustrous hair I completely took for granted as a young woman, it would be a no-brainer. Oh to go back to my hair's glory days when it could have been used as Cousin It's body double. But alas, those days are gone. I'm afraid I may soon be ordering all the knock off Rogaine from Canada or Mexico that I can find on the internet. Or, heaven help me, I'll be doing a Donald Trump comb over at some point in the future. That would give a whole new meaning, and incredibly unattractive visual, to the phrase "side swept bangs".
These are cute short 'dos. It's a bit sad to realize I'm more than old enough to be Rihanna's mom. And if I had Victoria Beckham's tiny little figure, I could sport any old haircut and look like a million bucks. I don't aspire to look 25 again because that's one miracle that won't materialize, but rather young enough that folks don't start trying to give me an AARP discount before my time. *sigh*
I don't know what I'll end up doing when I sit down in the stylist's chair in a couple days. Maybe I'll just get a bit trimmed off the ends and continue to give longer hair a try. Or maybe I'll get it all whacked off and go back to my days of easy, breezy wash and go hair.
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