I Have Hair

That's my plaintive description of myself every morning, as I stumble out of bed and into the living room, unable to see in front of my face.

I haven't had a haircut since February 11th, exactly one month before TBG and I began to shelter in place. I had an appointment the week afterwards; I opted to cancel it, and rescheduled to June.  After all, once this was over, everyone would be rushing to get in.  It was the smart thing to do.

You can guess how prescient we were.  That June appointment came and went.  I can't remember if it fell during one of the It's-okay-we -can-party-now reopenings they've declared here - TBG and I don't go anywhere we can avoid, and the salon is one of those places.

He could cut my hair if I wanted it shorter, having been my coiffeur for several decades.  But once I ordered clips and elastics along with the groceries I was able to keep it out of my eyes and off my neck. I have hair that annoys me, and I haven't said that in decades.

I have a pony tail for the first time since graduate school.  In a week or two I won't even need a clip to hold in the escapees.  Swimming was a challenge until enough of them were long enough to stay back.  I'd lift my head out of the water and see nothing through my goggles but hair.  I'd swim a lap and feel tickles at the nape of my neck.  I have hair now.

One small dollop of shampoo was all I ever needed; now I'm conditioning my locks and going through bottles of product with alarming frequency.  I'm combing and spraying and decorating my head with two pony tails, with clips holding the top back, with clips pinning the sides away from my ears - activities I haven't enjoyed since my 20's, when my hair reached to my waist.

In the '60's and '70's it was great hair, except that TBG is the only man I've ever met who doesn't like long hair, so the summer between social work school quarters I chopped it all off.  I could turn my head on the pillow without thwacking him in the face.  I wasn't vacuuming up long strands from the shag carpet.  I gave away my bonnet hair dryer and my sit underneath one too.  I was free, and I stayed that way until freedom went away and we were stuck inside.

What started out as a let's see where it goes experiment has morphed into Scarlett wondering what I'd done to make my hair look so good this morning.  The answer is embarrassingly straightforward - I took it out of the pony tail holder.  I didn't comb it or shake it or ruffle it with my fingers.  I just took the elastic off and opened our on-line mahjong game.  I wasn't looking for a compliment; my scalp was looking for a reprieve. 

Both Allison and dkzody commented on my lengthy tresses on Monday's post.  No one comments on my hair.  Or no one used to comment on my hair.

Pandemic '01 has been full of surprises, not the least of which is that I have hair.