I guess it was always there waiting for just the right moment to strike. It was silent, deadly, like a pestilence taking over its victim until there is no recourse; until there is nothing anyone can do. I didn’t notice it in New Jersey. And, at first, I didn’t notice it in Florida, but it was there lurking. It started slowly taking up a little more space each year until, finally, it happened. My hair exploded like a megaton bomb.

Once you know what to do with them, curls are fun. Once you’ve had them for 15 years, curls get kind of boring. So, I thought maybe I’d try something different with my next hair appointment. I looked for pictures of different celebrities with curly hair that I thought might work with mine. Jane Fonda was a front runner, until I found Jenna Elfman, even the color was right!

On November 17th, I posted this picture on Facebook. I told everyone that my only reason for posting was to show my hair lady on Tuesday. I couldn’t figure out how to save it to my phone, so a Facebook post was my easy fix. Technology and I are still not really friends.

Anyway, after posting and thinking nobody would comment because they’d realize it was just to show my hair lady; I was very surprised to receive more than a few comments rapid fire. They went like this. “Go for it! Do it! I can’t wait to see the final results! This would look so good on you! Cute and Sassy! With side bangs and a red Corvette! Yes, try it!” One snarky friend, teased, “Ya know you don’t have to find a red head with the hair you want. A good hair dresser can match the style regardless of color.” Another friend, who I admit I’ve only actually met twice, thought the picture was me. If only. One young Mom at church, who I am eternally grateful for, asked, “Why do you want to chop off your hair? It’s beautiful.” (Arden, you are my new best friend!)

Although I do know these comments were meant as encouragements, and I did accept them as such. I must admit it made me wonder. Why were people so quick to encourage me to cut off my hair? Was it really that bad?

I admit that my hair has always had a mind of its own. When I was growing up it was always full of unruly cowlicks. My Grandma Moon frequently told me that I looked like, The Wreck of the Hesperus, but I was used to that. As I got older I realized that she and my Mom were born to an era that mandated women of a certain age to have short hair, kind of like a rite of passage moving you on to maturity. Mom was most excited at the notion that I might join the ranks of mature women everywhere and cut off some of my curls. I told her I liked the style in the picture, but we’d have to see if my hair would comply. I knew I’d have to break it to her gently if it didn’t work. Mom was the first one I called when it was over.

For everyone else…

It is with deep regret that I inform the dear ladies of Facebook…”Alas, fair ladies, it was not to be.” At the threat of looking like a poodle, I decided it should not be done. My curls remain, a little shorter, but still my curls. My apologies to the Facebook masses. But, it’s only hair and, after all, it’s really not that big a deal.