Guest Post: Hair

• Note from Shelbee: I have been wanting to write a post about our relationship with our hair for some time now but have never quite gotten around to it. Then Susan sent me this article about her own relationship with hair. For me, it has taken a lifetime to appreciate and even love my own hair. I find that many women always desire that which they do not have and do not appreciate what they do have. Curly heads want straight hair. Straight heads want curly. Those with thick hair wish it were thinner. And those with thin hair would kill for thicker. Tow heads dye their locks while brunettes lighten and highlight. Why can we not just be satisfied with the hair we are given? For me, my issue has always been long versus short. I hate the feeling of wet hair down my back after a shower and when it gets to where I can no longer tolerate that sensation, I chop it all off. And I immediately begin the growing out process the second my long locks hit the salon floor. But this time, I am trying to hold onto the longer hair for a while because I am quite enjoying the versatility in styling when my hair is long. Well, without further adieu, I give you Susan and her story about Hair.

Hi, I am Susan Marinelli. I am an aged hippie from New Castle, Delaware, a very old town on the Delaware River. I live in my old, old house with my aged Scottie, Wally, and a most annoying cat named Gracie. My grandparents lived around the corner, where my father was born, and I am related to 99% of all the Italians in my town. I am inching toward retirement, and in the meantime, drive a school bus and a senior center bus so I don’t have to work in an office. I’ve done a lot of traveling, love to read, cook, garden, and am a fan of history and language. And of course, fashion. Here I am (and yes, I am holding an Italian flag).

Hair

I like hair. As long as it’s not on my upper lip, legs, or underarms, I wholeheartedly approve of hair. I like dog hair, cat hair, and my own hair, which is a very good thing, as there is plenty of it floating around my house. I like the hair on a fresh peach, that mossy hair-like substance that hangs from trees in the South, and baby hair. I like faux fur, those hairy boots that skiers wear, and the flower called Sweet William, since it feels like hair to me.

I like Beyonce’s hair (real or not), Meg Ryan’s hair in any movie, and Renee Russo’s hair, also in any movie. I really love Jason Momoa and Lisa Bonet’s hair, and that Rastafarian hair in dreadlocks that sticks up in every direction. Einstein had incredible hair; and I find it fitting that Einstein’s hair stuck up in every direction. My theory is that his brain fired on so many cylinders, his hair stood on end. Marilyn Monroe had good hair, and as an aside, when asked which man she would most like to take to bed, she replied Einstein. I am sure that made his hair stand on end. Cleopatra had great hair, in spite of the fact that it was cut and waved in that unfortunate Egyptian style, the shape of which resembles a pyramid. No accounting for fashion, but I think it’s safe to say, hair has always been a big part of fashion.

That being said, you will understand my consternation upon ascertaining that I was losing my hair. At first, I ignored it, hoping it would go away. Then, I started moving my part around. Then I purchased some of that thick hair shampoo ($15), which made my hair feel like horse hair. Then, I told my doctor, she of the thick, glorious hair, and flawless, porcelain complexion. She replied, with a most insulting air of insouciance, “Women of your age always experience thinning hair, it’s hormonal.”

How dare she! That bitch!

Obviously, she didn’t realize who she was dealing with.

I may be old, but I am still cool. I am the woman who managed to meet Mott the Hoople by shooting them with water pistols. I saw David Bowie do his Stardust show, before he died. I once ran into Weezer at the Golden Dove at 1:00 a.m.! Whatever do you mean, doctor? And by the way, your hair looks great.

Hormones my ass! And down the rabbit hole I went.

Now we all know, the internet never lies, and everything we read there is absolute truth. So, I went there first. My research was exhaustive and compelling.

Here, I will have to give a shoutout to the blogger who said:

“Life is too short for boring hair.” I can’t find her again, but she had short red hair and she looked fabulous. Thank you unnamed blogger! She led me to examine my own hair, and realize that letting the gray grow out, had not led to the glorious white, Einstein-like hair I was hoping for, but instead to a thinning, gray-brown mousy mess. In addition, I realized I had helmet hair. Helmet hair is anathema to a cool chick like me, since 99.9 percent of ladies my age sport helmet hair. If Mott the Hoople saw me today, he might mistake me for his Mom!

Merde!

The situation wasn’t helped by my niece, my 24 year old hairdresser, who informed me that achieving the glorious white/gray Einstein-like hair I longed for might take me another five years, since my grayness seemed to be slow. She also refused to color my hair glorious gray/white since that required stripping and my delicate hair couldn’t handle that.

Back to the internet I went.

While mourning my bygone hair, and reading about Cleopatra using henna on her hair, I had an epiphany! In the seventies, I’d used henna on my hair, and it had at that time, imparted a marvelous thickness to it. Lucille Ball also used henna, and her hair looked thicker than mine. The 24 year old hairdresser/niece had never heard of it, and the drugstore doesn’t carry it any longer like they did in the seventies.

But HennaColorLab does! God Bless the Internet, purveyor of truth and online shopping.

Henna, an organic herb, bonds to ones hair. It detoxifies the scalp.

Read the website.

I ordered, I applied, I conquered. I also had the 24 year old cut layers in my helmet hair. Voila! I am cool again!

Here I am, with my shaggy (translate cool) hair. It doesn’t break off when I brush it any longer. It’s a pretty neat, coppery, cinnamon brown color. They also make neutral, if you don’t want color. I wanted color. What the hell, gray may be empowering, but this color makes my eyes pop.

Is Mott the Hoople still alive?

Thanks again, Susan, for a thought-provoking and laugh-inducing post!

Other guest posts by Susan Marinelli:
There’s a Nun in My Head
Bueller? Bueller?
What to Wear to a Nude Beach

Keeping it on the edge,

Shelbee

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