Hair Moron

Let me lay out the facts. I think I have about the same haircut I had when I was three. I grew up in the hippie sixties where long straight hair was the style, or no style by choice. I was lucky, I had long straight lifeless hair, similar to Laurie Partridge, and that is where the similarities ended.

Sometime in college I got a curling iron, but the burns on my forehead told me that was not a tool I could handle.

I was twenty seven before I ever had a perm. It was the eighties and I tried for a short period of time to have big hair. To be honest there were only a couple of days my hair was ever big because my BFF’s big sister Gussy sprayed and teased my hair into a “do.” It looked good for a hour.

I am a hair moron, meaning I can’t hold a dryer and a round brush at the same time, even in two different hands.

There is no such thing as a special occasion hairdo in my repertoire. My hair is my hair.

In the good new category, I have never colored my hair and I still retain my mousy brown color. I have grown a few grey hairs at my temples, but not enough to cause me to consider coloring my hair. That would take too much time.

Today, in anticipation of the big wedding we are going to next Saturday, I asked my hairstylist to cut my hair shorter in the back so I could attempt to not look like a little Dutch boy. She took photos of the back. Wow. I quickly sent them to Carter and told her it was going to be her job to try and recreate this. She altered me to the products I would need. This is going to be another virgin territory, the purchasing of hair spray.

I think I should practice. Maybe on my drive north I can try and do my hair everyday. Wait, when will there be time for that? I don’t think I can drive and do my hair at the same time.

So I post these photos so those of you who see me next weekend can know what I was supposed to look like. The only part I promise will be the same is the color. If it ain’t broke.