Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Why is it that hairdressers always want to give me big hair? The hair cut itself is fine, but when they style it, they create a huge sculpture on my head. I guess my hair is irresistible to them.

Between all the hair products and the itchiness from hair being dropped down my neck, I'm usually forced to take a shower immediately.

Despite my hair's natural tendency towards getting big, I've always rejected the style. In the late 80s, when big hair was... well, big, I told my hair dresser, "Cut it as short as possible." And I got it trimmed every time the hint of a curl would show. This was probably why it took me years to find out I had naturally curly hair. I mean, it was between that and the fact I used to dry my hair so severely it would straighten most of it.

When I was a little girl, I had long hair for a very short while, and then Mom had it cut short in what she called a "pixie cut" (which, over the summer, got so blonde it looked white). She thought it was cute, I guess.

It was also in reaction to the fact that when she was a little girl, her parents forced her to sit for uncomfortable hours while they styled her hair in Shirley Temple ringlets. She told me that she decided her daughter should get to play and not worry about messing up her hair. So I guess I can understand where she was coming from.

By second and third grade, I'd started to let it grow. In fourth grade, I thought it looked absolutely great. I had shoulder length blonde hair which hung pretty straight because of my bad hairdryer habit. Unfortunately, I wasn't doing a very good job of combing it, and I would get massive knots on the back of my head. Because I claimed I was too old for Mom to be combing my hair, she took me to the hairdresser and had them cut it all off. I rode home with a towel over my head. The same year, I got glasses. I was an instant geek.

In the mid-80s the unisex haircut came into fashion. It was the hip new thing, so I didn't mind my short hair. But my hair, having a hint of curl, would never really match the styles I wanted to imitate, even with copious amounts of mousse. I must admit to working a compromise for awhile and having a bit of a mullet.

By my senior year, I'd grown it out and had long hair for the first time since my childhood. I began to discover that I had a bit of curl, when I would let it dry naturally.

After I got over the whole feathering thing, I got hippied out. For awhile I even had a little braid near my face, with ribbons and beads. And I just let my hair get longer and longer. One summer, I did so with the express purpose of trying out for "Hair" in the fall. I didn't get chosen for the cast, but my hair was great. They probably would have taken my hair, without me, if they could have.

But as my hair continued to grow, it also got wilder. I began to understand why Mom used to complain about getting a comb through my hair.

I'd gotten the idea that the way to deal with my long hair was to have really short bangs. It's one of those "what was I thinking" moments.

When I started grad school, I got my hair cut to shoulder length, to be more "professional." At the time, it was a severe change for me, since my hair, at its longest, hung down to the middle of my back. The biggest shock was discovering how much easier it was to get around in the world. When you have long hair, you're always dealing with it, for example, holding it out of the way when you take a drink of water. Now I could drink from a fountain without any yoga moves.

And I've gone through some more changes since then, mostly varieties of length and hairstyle. I've even dyed it a couple times. Of course, usually I can't stand it after a short while and can't wait to have my true hair color back. I miss the days when they used to sell colored mousse. It had a slight tint, and you could make your hair, say, strawberry blonde for just one day.

So I can't understand why some people never change their hair. My brother and I have this theory that people often stick with the look they had at the time in their life when they felt best about themselves. And so this is why, sometimes, you'll see a man in his 60's dressed like a greaser. Or, in the case of my graduating class, peg-legs and big hair.

There are people in my home town who haven't changed their hair a bit since high school. If I were that way, I'd still have a tail.

I try to explain this sort of thing to my dog and she doesn't get it. Una has a very simple hair style: two, to be precise. In the winter she gets long and fluffy, and in the summer she goes short. She has developed a ruff around her neck now, which looks kind of funny because it sticks up at odd angles. But Una doesn't care; she doesn't even use mousse. She's never even considered dying her hair. She does, however, sometimes wear a pumpkin costume.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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