Here is my hair. I grew it out because it’s too expensive to maintain a short haircut. I’ve let it grow to shoulder length and I’ve begun to colour it with blonde highlights. It hides the grey and makes my face look less tired.
I never know what to do with this hair of mine now that I’m a middle aged woman. I spend a lot of money on it, to be sure. It is still thick and plentiful.
I’ve never been afraid of trying something different. When I went through a divorce, I cut it short as a way of expressing my freedom.
My mother has hair like mine. Very straight, very fine, but lots of it. She is a little old lady now who gets her hair “permed” regularly. It is usually curly and dry and tight to her head. My aunt Kathleen was a hairdresser who used to “do” my mother’s hair for her. She was mainly responsible for the burned perms but my mother never stopped letting her do her hair because aunt Kathleen needed the money.
Hair is a funny thing. It can mean a lot or nothing at all to some people.
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