Tag Archives: hair

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

This morning I cut my hair myself, something I’ve been messing about doing half my life it seems.  And I’ve spent the other half being upset with, happy with, or puzzled by the results of professional haircuts.  At least when I do it myself I save time, learn something, and am always delighted to use the money and time I would have spent with a hairdresser on something more fun.  And less traumatizing.

When we first moved to the Arctic with our one year old daughter my hair was long and straight.  I wore it pulled back at the neck, braided, up in a pony tail and even in pig tails sometimes.   We lived in an isolated community with few amenities, accessible only by air, and I was pregnant and bored.  There’s a deadly combination.  After weeks of conversing with a toddler because my husband was always working or away, using up all my yarn and craft supplies and watching it snow,  I decided to hack off my hair.  Hey, it passed some time.  I took off only a few inches that first time, but then my mother in law sent me the first curling iron I ever owned and the real experimenting began.

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This is me with my two babies (February 1976) after six months in Cambridge Bay and who knows how many self-inflicted hair cuts.  Once my son arrived I had much less time to be bored so the frequency of hair cuts slowed down considerably.

Fast forward to Christmas that same year when we flew to Ontario.  Our son was almost eleven months old and our daughter was two and a half.  I was long overdue for a visit to a salon.  Mothers of young children generally aren’t known for their astute sense of fashion and style, which might explain why I decided to get my hair cut in a “shag”‘ made popular by people like Jane Fonda in the movie Klute.

When I returned with my newly shorn “do” my daughter stopped in her tracks and stared at me.  Not much ever made that kid slow down, so that’s why I remember it.  I picked her up and she grabbed a little fist full of what was left of the hair at my forehead and said “MOMMY ARE YOU IN THERE?”  Yes, my daughter always spoke in caps lock.

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And yes, those are bangs. The shortest bangs in history, except maybe for the ones little kids cut by accident on themselves.  I thought you also might enjoy seeing W in a pink paper party hat, and a messy gift opening Christmas Eve.  And my classy shoes?  Don’t miss those.

The great thing about hair is it keeps on growing and after a couple of months I finally made peace with this hair cut.

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Jane Fonda, eat your heart out.

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A Day Without Needles

Hey, what happened to my flashback Fridays?

When I have an upcoming appointment scheduled (and the latest one was this morning at the university hospital) my whole self goes in to a semi catatonic state of mild dread. I don’t function well, unless you consider worrying to be a skill.

The funny thing is I don’t realize I’m doing it until there’s this rush of relief flooding over me when it’s all done and I’m driving home and the sun is shining and it’s Friday and the weekend and FRIDAY!  Oh yeah!  The flashback thing I started.

But first, finally I talked to a doctor who would like to try something different instead of repeating the same procedures in what has seemed to be a random fashion, always giving the same negative results.  So instead of doing yet another needle biopsy less than four months after the last double one, he did only an ultrasound this morning.  He is going to schedule me for a core biopsy instead because it removes a larger tissue sample on which they can do more tests.  And it involves a local anesthetic, and thus a needle but there were no needles today!

So until that’s arranged and the cycle of dread begins again, I feel light-hearted and anxiety free and in a mood to make fun of my hair styles over the years.

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From age six to grade six to Teachers College graduation, the Dutch boy cut morphed to a bob with a Hollywood wave and then to a sleek whatever that is. Easy to look after mostly, and in the process of growing to acceptable hippy length standards.

In between somewhere there was this.

imageThe original cone head?  I can’t even.  But look at that swanky screen door with the big M.  I remember when we got that, thinking it was pretty nice, and a good backdrop for a photo I guess.  Who knows what all was going on in my pointy little head.

Hope you’re having a no needle Friday wherever you are, and whatever the state of your hair.  Don’t worry, one day you will get to the point where it’s just hilariously funny and doesn’t really matter that much anymore.  Except maybe to the people who have to be seen with you in public.  But that’s their problem.

The Twelfth Day of June

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I have always been insanely jealous of my sisters hair.  Well maybe not insanely because I can go for several days at a time without even thinking about it.  Okay, insanely is probably pretty accurate.

Today is her birthday. She was born on Thursday the 12th.  When I was old enough to realize the significance of my own Friday the 13th birthday I decided to never forgive her for arriving a day early.  Although it may have been a relief for our mother.  I don’t know, I never asked her.

Anyway, back to the hair.  Hers was blonde.  It was curly.  It framed her cherubic little face in perfectly natural ringlets and waves.  My own poker straight dark hair showed every chop of the scissors, flat and boyish and boring in comparison.

Not much has changed in sixty years.  Except that I inherited our dads family trait of going grey early.  I like to think it’s silvery and I wish for it to some day be as white as my aunts and uncles.  Whatever, grey is grey.   With no hair coloring help whatsoever, Mom kept the color in her hair for a lot longer.  And my sister (with a little help) is doing that too. Now she has lots of blonde streaks and highlights in her waves and curls.

W asked me one time why I didn’t let my hair grow longer like my sisters.  I fought off the urge to grab him by the neck and choke him while yelling that he should grow back his bald spot and then we’d talk.  Because, you know, that would have been childish.  Instead I patiently explained that our hair is completely different and that mine would not look the same.  At all.  So shut up about the hair.

Yes, insanely is looking more accurate by the minute.

On our holiday my sister let her hair dry naturally and then gave it a quick brush and it looked perfect.  For the rest of the day.  I blew mine dry because if I don’t all the cowlicks show.  I put gel in it because if I don’t it’s about as thick as the wispy hair on a two-year old.  Normally I would use my brush curling iron to add some body but I was afraid I’d blow up or burn out our adapter and not be able to charge our more important things like camera batteries and I-Pads.  So I spritzed it all over with hair spray and called it done.  It looked good for approximately ten minutes every day, and then reverted back to exactly how it looked upon emerging from the shower.

I love my sister to death.  I want her hair.  I will die with this one fervent wish never granted.  I hope she has a happy birthday.  I hope she appreciates her beautiful hair.  It’s way past time for me to get over this and let it go.  I don’t think I ever will.

How insane is that.

Just Jazzy 197

soap-lock (n) a lock of hair worn on the temple and kept smoothly in place by being soaped:  hence, any lock brushed apart from the rest of the hair and carefully kept in position.

sackbut (n) a medieval musical instrument of the trumpet family

"I wear my soap-lock on my forehead and play sackbut in a marching band!"  How totally awesome is that for an answer when somebody asks what you do?
“I wear my soap-lock on my forehead and play sackbut in a marching band!” How totally awesome is that for an answer when somebody asks what you do?

Jazzy Words

Deep Subjects

Wishing well at the castle of Zumelle, Belluno...
Wishing well at the castle of Zumelle, Belluno, Veneto, Italy. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well……

It appears I’ve taken an unplanned, unannounced and ridiculously long break.  Long for me, anyway, because of this blog-a-day thing with which I like to torture myself.

I have many teeth stories that even I’m sick of hearing, so I’ll just say I now have a mouthful of them thanks to a small permanent bridge filling up a space that’s been empty for years.  Yay for one less empty space in my head.  And only one more trip to the dentist, and then he can go off on an extended vacation once my bill is paid.

Yesterday was seniors day at Shoppers Drug Mart and the cashier didn’t even ask me for ID to prove I’m over 55.  Seriously.  Even though I’m well over that and have an honest face, she still could have made my day by doubting me.  Whatever, the discount was nice.  Getting to be ancient has it’s perks.

Not so perky is the hearing loss where I misunderstand people who mumble in a quiet and irritating manner, saying things like “seduced LSD is a sin” when they actually mean “reduced elasticity in the skin”.  Come on people, either speak up or I’ll have to go see an audiologist.

And speaking of ‘seeing’, yesterday I misread the question “What makes a great teacher?” as “What makes a goat tender?”  That was on my phone where the printing is small.  Could have happened to anyone, right? And means practically the same thing.  My life has become infinitesimally more interesting lately.  No wonder old people wander around looking dazed and confused.

At work I continue to be a geezer magnet.  Eighty year old men love me.  A ten minute glasses dispensing job turns into a half hour gab session as they tell me their life stories.  A delightful man told me all about his triple bypass surgery, and how he had to stay in the hospital an extra three days due to constipation.

Another explained how doctors removed four litres of fluid from his asbestos inflamed lungs, and now his feet swell up all the time.  I did not ask how those two facts are related.

Did you know that a box of ammunition for a 22 rifle used to cost twenty five cents, and that an 11 year old way back in the day picking off gophers could become a sharp shooter really fast? Neither did I.

Canada is the absolute best place in the world to live and in Texas you can shoot an intruder and then just call somebody to come pick up the body.  I could think of no reply to that double barrelled  bit of information, but I think perhaps one or both of those statements may not be entirely true.

Well, who knows.  Maybe I didn’t hear him right.   Because, you know, think about the winters here.

It’s been another beautiful fall day.  I went for a hair cut and didn’t cry.  W brought home Chinese take out.  I was able to chew stuff.

Life is good.

It’s Crying Time Again

photo credit www.theatlantic.com  This is not where I was today, but more hair places should consider offering these three things.
photo credit http://www.theatlantic.com This is not where I was today, but more hair places should consider offering these three things.

No, I’m just kidding about crying time.  Today was hair cut time again.  No amount of crying is acceptable.  It’s only hair.  At least I still have some.

Although I have had haircuts in the past that shocked me to the verge of tears, today was not one of those days.  I think it helps to wait until your hair is such an incredible mess from hell that anything they do to it cannot help but make an improvement.  My hair had reached that point and gone a tad beyond.

Most of the time, good hairdressers I stumble upon decide after two or three visits from me to go and work somewhere else, give up the craft altogether, or move out of province or halfway across the world.  Or simply far enough away that I am unlikely to ever find them again.  Today the original stylist I was booked with had a death in the family and didn’t come to work.  To me this sounded infinitely better than having died herself.  So someone else had to volunteer to fit me in.

I was lucky enough to get the lady who had to rush off to a physiotherapy session in roughly half an hour.  Miss Flying Scissors.  She sat me down and told me she was going to put the FUN back into my hair.  I had no idea until that moment that it was missing.  Or possible to have in the first place.

Fastest hair cut and style of my life.  My least favourite part where a hairdresser spritzes and sprays and texturizes and generally fusses forever was pretty much skipped.  I was home in record time and able to enjoy the rest of my afternoon off.  This included a two-hour nap and some serious bed head that’s a little scary.

Just for fun, and to compliment the fun that’s back in my hair, I googled names of hair salons.  Here’s some of my favourites.

1.  Curl Up and Dye

2.  I’ll Cut You

3.  The Hair Port

4.  The Best Little Hair House

5.  ALCUTRAZ

6.  Anita Haircut

7.  Great Head Hair Salon

8.  British Hairways

9.  The Last Strand

10.  Grateful Head

I might go to any of those, but not the Ass Hair Salon or Hair Potato.  I don’t think my hair could handle THAT much fun.

Just the Facts

just the factsAnyone remember Dragnet and Joe Friday?  It was one of the first television shows I ever watched.  This guy was always trying to get people to stop voicing their opinions and making wild assumptions about whatever crime he was investigating, and just stick to the facts.  Week after week he had to keep reminding them.  So just for you Joe, five random facts about my day. (With some opinions and wild assumptions thrown in.  Sorry, it’s human nature.  You should know that by now.)

1.  One of the best mood lifters in the world for me is to go to work leaving my house looking like pigs live in it and come home to find it sparkling clean.  I do pay for this miraculous service and believe me,  it is worth every single penny.

2.  I have been studiously ignoring January and not bothering to hate it.  If it does pop into my head I just make a quiet wish for it to go away.  Look how well this is working for me!  It’s over half gone already!

3. There is no kind and polite way to tell someone her kid is a little shit.  Chances are she suspects it already anyway.  (This particular darling boy had two pairs of mangled glasses that looked like they’d been in a food processor.  On high.)  Mom wanted to know why they were such a mess.  I’m pretty sure she didn’t really want to hear my honest opinion so I kept it to myself.  Her child will probably grow out of the glasses mangling stage at some point in his life.

4.  Someone found my blog by searching for “fish hair“.  For once in my life I am at a loss for words.

5.  The temperature outside is two degrees above freezing.  What month is this again??  Back to normal and 18 below (celsius) by Sunday.  Sometimes normal sucks.  But that’s okay.

WOOHOO!  Tomorrow is FRIDAY, Joe Friday.  And that’s a fact.