Hair…

When I first posted about possibly getting a haircut, I never imagined that people would even think twice about it. I mean it’s hair, and unless your armpits never had a hair follicle I’m sure you understand how very commonplace it is. Yet here I am, writing about it again, because months later people are still leaving comments about it—asking questions, sharing opinions and dispensing advice. I’ve also been getting e-mail about it, and backstage, half my search referrals and Greymatter search requests are about hair—short, long, thick, chopped, healthy, you name it.

So I have no choice but to address the topic again, answer any questions still outstanding and post photos of the hair that everyone is so evidently trying to picture.

To my dismay, however, I discovered how very few photos I have of me and my vaunted hair. That’s what I get for not having a camera. A crapera, I have; a camera, I don’t have. Bear with me as I try my best to describe my locks.

First of all, my driver’s license claims that my hair is black. Minnie uses the more poetic “raven” to describe my hair, but if you want to get technical, it’s somewhat black. It’s the same color as my black cat’s hair, which actually looks a bit like very dark reddish brown in the bright sunlight, like chocolate; but for all intents and purposes, it’s black.

Second, it’s thick. Practically everyone else in my family has thin hair, but for some strange reason, I have thick hair. My Aunt “G” also has thick hair, and how we got to be the black sheep, I’ll never know.

Third, it’s straight. Depressingly straight. I believe it actually cries out in pain when I put a curling iron to it, it’s so straight. Even my eyelashes, long as they are, are straight. My sister was lucky to have a little curl in her hair, but me, my hair is so straight, you will never see wild and sexy hair-on-hair action—nope, not even a hint of bisexuality in my hair whatsoever. None. It only has a bit of curl in it after it’s been in a braid for a while.

Fourth, it grows like crazy. If I were a guy, I’d get five o’clock shadow before noon; it’s that fast. This is part of the reason I don’t usually get my hair cut in trendy styles; it outgrows the style quickly and requires constant trimming. This is not to say that I never get my hair styled. I do on occasion, whether it’s short or long. For example:

So right now it’s long, and it’s cut straight across, nothing fancy. It reaches down to my butt when unbound, and when I shed it never goes unnoticed. In fact, we at the gem residence like to joke about some pony leaving behind its strands of tail hair on the bathroom floor. Funny, but when my hair is short, one would think I never shed at all. Speaking of which, here are photos of the shortest and the longest that I’ve had my hair… actually, my hair has been and is much, much longer than in the second photo, but that’s the longest ever captured on film.

Fifth, it’s strong and healthy. I’ve actually had brushes fall apart on me after a few months, bristles falling out like teeth from an nonagenarian. Currently, I use two brushes—one to get the tangles out and one to get the hair all nice and smooth. Both have plastic ball-end bristles that massage my scalp as I brush. For those who are curious, I use cheap Suave shampoo and conditioner, currently the mountain strawberry variety. I have sometimes used the green apple one, sometimes the plain strawberry one. I’ve gotten so accustomed to using these products that I don’t smell them any more, but people seem to really like the way my hair smells. You might want to give the shampoo a try.

Six, it’s a nuisance. I discovered early on why my mother liked to keep my hair short or bound. It’s all over the place otherwise. Below are photos of me as a child—with short hair, getting a perm, and with bound hair. I never actually got to have shoulder-length hair until I was about 12 years old.

And below are photos of my flyaway hair and my bound (at yellow arrows) hair.

So what’s it like getting my hair cut? It’s like this:

But, since we’re on the topic now, I don’t know if I’ll be cutting my hair any time soon. Unbound and flowing, brushing softly against the flesh, it’s kind of a turn-on behind the bedroom door. I just pray it doesn’t get caught in the ceiling fan, you know? It’s quite handy for tying people up, though.

Ahem. Just kidding!

Seriously, though… there are a lot of uses for hair this long, especially in a braid. It’s only a matter of time before someone at the DOD contacts me about using me as their new secret weapon. Behold the various uses:

So… if you have any more questions about the hair, fire away. This post is probably going to be the last time I talk about it for a long, long while. Rest assured that if I cut my hair, I’ll post a before-and-after photo. It’s too dramatic a change not to, and I know that many of you want to see it.

By the way… here’s the scan of the four braids in the Ziploc bag, each braid over a foot long and 2-3 inches wide:

Hair’s looking at you, kid.

Share this post: