Its like I've grown my own beret

Hair.

I don't know if you've noticed. But my hair is getting GIGANTIC!!! This ranks as a big deal in my world! I've had this androgen thing going on upstairs since I was 15. And it has served me rather well. In fact, like being a cigarette fiend, it was sort of "my thing." Growing it out has been as emotionally loaded for me as (evidenced by the "Make-over Episode" every cycle of Top Model) cutting it all off is for most women. Something about having this obvious, feminizing signifier growing right out of the top of my head, feels like a lot to handle for me. Its like saying "Hey, here's my gender! I'm a FEMALE, take that!" Not that I've ever been one to leave the house on a Friday night in a hijab or anything. Usually my sartorial choices are influenced by the notion that someday I'm going to be old and everything is going to inevitably head south, both figuratively and literally, so might as well enjoy the fruits of my (relative) youth before they become crasins.

Being hirsute is like a whole new world though. It really really is.

• Its warm! Yes, I'm here to report, having a shit load of hair keeps your head warm in the cold. Lovin' it. Especially this winter because the "new economy" is making it unlikely I can afford a nice hat.

• Its gray. Not lovin' it so much. I knew I had a few coming in on the sides, but crop kind of kept them undercover. [Actually, I'm lying. I sort of love that it's turning gray and I love being able to be like "awww it's turning gray." I think I'm actually getting a streak! And how can I become the grand dame I envision myself as at 60 without a streak!?]
  

• I still want to have it in front of my face all the time, just like middle school. It's great, it's like being in your own little cave.

• Also like middle school, sometimes I go to sleep with it wet, get up and don't brush it. Unlike middle school this generally happens if I come home late and am trying to shower the drunk away (it's a preventative hangover balm.)
  

• I've adopted this ridiculous hair flipping move that involves me shaking my head a lot. It sort of looks like headbanging, except on a horizontal axis, or as if I have to say "no no no" to something, fast. And yes, it means I am flirting with you. I know I know...it probably looks like I have Tourettes.

• No one ever tells me I look like Liza Minnelli!

• "You look like that SNL chick from the 70s...uhh.. guggg...Gilll"

"Gilda Radner?"

"haha oh YEA, you TOTALLY DO"

I THINK THAT'S AWESOME.

I do think Gilda is out-hairing me by a mile. I'm never really going to be able to attain the heights of a brushed out jew fro but, It's something to aspire to.

I liked having short hair, but after a decade, I'm tired of it. When I chopped it off I was fifteen and it has never been longer than ear length till now (I'm 26). I so badly wanted to prove to the world my consummate singularity and being quite the observant little pet when I was 15, I noticed not a single girl in my high school had hair like Mia Farrow. Most had bad dye jobs and ponytails and wore bows. Yes, 16, 17 year old young women with hair bows. It just struck me as the silliest, most infantilizing thing. How, as a woman could you ever hope to be taken seriously having once worn a BOW.

Also, I was not entirely confident that my singularity was really all that consummate, but I was hoping to get the ball rolling in that direction. I was also kind of emo. Get it? I wanted how I looked on the OUTSIDE to be what like what I felt I was (or wanted to be) on the INSIDE.

Now I want to be

This guy.

Wellll maybe; despite their rather battle-ready image, male lions generally lie around all day mating and looking awesome while the less majestic looking ladies do all the heavy lifting, i.e. jungle business of catching stuff, pulling it apart, ingesting it.

(hahah EXACTLY)


In a year I'm going to be

YEA!