As far back as the Dark Ages, I had this thing about hair. My dolls lived in fear, wondering which one would be next to get their hair chopped off. When I was fifteen, I started cutting my hair. But I always left enough to roll it in curlers.
Men, have you ever tried sleeping in these things? It’s like laying your head on a pile of rocks. I tried sleeping sitting up, hanging my head over the side of the bed, tossing and turning all night long trying to get comfortable. Finally, I came up with a solution.
The hair dryer from Mars. Worked like a charm. When my hair was dry, I took out the stupid curlers and went to sleep.
Then there was the brushing, the teasing and styling, and cans of hairspray.
And those frizzy, Bozo the Clown perms you couldn’t comb with a garden rake.
Then came Susan Powter. Remember her? The Susan Powter TV show back in the 90’s? Well, I’ll never forget her. The moment she strutted her skinny self across the TV screen wearing stilettos and a skimpy bikini, I fell in love. She was spirited, she was funny, she was cocky and sassy. And she was BALD!
In that wide-eyed shocking moment I saw liberation! I saw no more curlers. No more perms. No more curling irons setting my hair on fire. No more hours of combing and teasing and spraying and worrying about the wind and the rain and the humidity messing my hair up. I’m gonna shave my head!
It was nuts. It was insane. It was absolutely scary. But running the clippers through my hair and watching it fall to the floor was the easy part. Dealing with the unconventional choice I made took some getting used to; the gawking stares, the pointing fingers and whispers. I found the whole thing rather amusing, even laughed out loud when strangers asked me if I was sick, and when children asked if I was a girl. But the funniest of all was when a woman, assuming that I had cancer and undergoing treatment sympathetically told me to keep up the good fight!