Hair

As you may recall, a few days ago I blogged about Eli, my Maine Coon cat, being shaved.

The vet tech. said at the time that he would probably be a few pounds lighter once this was done, (The cat, not the vet tech. however; the tech worked over an hour on the cat; the tech. looked thinner at the end, too) and by looking at the mound of fur, I didn't doubt what he said.

So, we weighed him (the cat, people, the cat!). His usual twenty pound self is now a svelte eighteen pounds.

Why, oh why, have I not thought of this??

Humans have hair everywhere, too, you know.

I think we are a lot more shiny without all our peach fuzz, and certainly a bald pate is obvious.

But, still...two whole pounds!

Shine on....

Looks Ain't Everthang

This morning I got up looking a bit like Einstein.

No, not a mustache. Old lady jokes are not funny. I shave every morning. Now, see, that didn't make you laugh, did it? Okay, well, maybe the Brother of Many Surgeries laughed, but he don't count no how.

No, not the brilliant, bulging forehead. Mine is quite normal.

No, not the faraway look in the eye showing magnificent and non-understanding by anyone but me thoughts going on in my head.(Although I have plenty of thoughts nobody understands, but it ain't because they are brilliant.)

It's my hair.

You see, I washed it yesterday afternoon and did nothing to it.

No curling iron, no nothing.

The results are stunning. As in,  "Lord have mercy, woman, what have you done?"

Makes people pay attention.

I guess the humidity did something, too. It did not stay in the cute little ringlet curls, but truly turned into a frizz festival that scared even the cats.

I think they thought I had an animal on my head.

The only non-reactions I got were from Daughter, who was, of course, busy. Like, you know, texting, and couldn't look up. My hair could have been on fire and she wouldn't have noticed until I started to scream. Then, she would have held up a hand in a 'just a moment' gesture before looking up.

The other non-reaction was from Molly, a.k.a., Dog. Dogs love you unconditionally. She did eye my head though, and I could tell she was wishing I'd bend down a little so she could lick a hair or two into place. But she didn't make snide comments or cringe in horror.

Dogs. (Wo)man's best friend.

Yep. Good old Molly.

But that wasn't quite good  enough, so I got busy and fixed my hair.

Nobody noticed.

What's That On Top Of Your Head?

I got  my hair done today. (And you thought this couldn't possibly be such an interesting blog!)

I left home at 1:30 and got back home at 4:00. Of course there was a side trip to the garage because of a little engine light concern, but never mind that.

And, of course, I had to eat chicken fettachini in the middle of getting my hair rolled.

And the trip is an hour, if you count both ways.

So, let's say it took an hour and  a half for my hair to cook and be curly all the way to the roots again.

That got me to thinking. How long do you think women spend on their hair a year? Curling, straightening, cutting, adding extensions, coloring it darker, bleaching it lighter, shampooing, conditioning, drying, styling, moussing, spritzing, spraying, fluffing and who knows what else I've left off, like teasing, pleading and begging.

And this doesn't even count talking to each other about our hair and what goes on or does not go on with it. And looking through style magazines and websites.

And we have to contend with our husbands going on and on about our hair, so that takes an additional, what, five minutes a year?

(When I mentioned my hair was dyed brown when we got married to get rid of the frosting I hated, Husband said, and I quote, "Your hair was brown when we got married? Huh.")

How long do you think men take a year doing and thinking all things regarding their own hair?

Now, I know some boys spend an enormous amount of time, but it's usually a phase, and the next time you see them their hair is back to its normal color and it's short. Because, they tell you, that other stuff was too much trouble. (I believe the whole stage was more about independence and rebellion than it was about hair, anyway.)

And men, as they get older and get balder, do seem to obsess about that, and may spend extra money on stuff that guarantees hair thickening magic. But they go bald anyway, then they shrug their shoulders and shave their head.

So, what's the deal with us females? It's not learned, we are born that way. I mean, little biddy girls go around wanting stuff in their hair, want it braided or brushed.

Maybe it's because, as the Bible says, it is our crowning glory, I don't know.

But I do know it's not to please our man. Not really. (see above)

I think it's about looking good for other women and also maybe trying to obtain some look that in our head would make us prettier. Or younger.

I wish I was brave enough to say the heck with it, cut it really short and forget about it.

But you know what?

I just can't.

A Woman's Crowning Glory

This week Daughter's hair is red.

Really red.

Last week it was sorta reddish brown.

Before that...hmmmm....Well, it's been dark brown (big mistake), reds, platinum blonde, (bigger mistake) and her natural color with highlights, the best in my humble (and totally ignored) opinion.

I think her natural color is a soft, dark blonde with lighter blonde highlights, which she embellished for a few years before she went plumb wild.

Luckily, she has thick healthy hair and nothing seems to faze it.

Me? My hair? Well, I've never strayed too far from my natural color. Twice darkened it because I'd had it frosted, and hated that it looked like (to me) grey  hair instead of blonde. Yes, I did it twice. So sue me. So my wedding pictures and Daughter's baby pictures have me sporting brown hair.

Otherwise, I've kept it about a shade lighter, because my dark blonde hair has a tendency to dull, especially in winter.

But I've kept my so-straight-you-could-plumb-a-house-with-it hair curly for thirty years. I think about stopping, but to tell you the truth, I really like it curly (hence thirty years) and don't want to go back to straight.

So I ask you: Is there a woman on the planet that loves her hair? The color? The thickness? The length? The curliness or straightness thereof? The greyness?

Or is it true what I've heard: Every woman wants some kind of hair they just don't have from nature.

And if that's true, why don't we like what we got when we were given out hair genes?

It's truly a  mystery to me.

Think on this, dear reader, and if you know the answer, let me know.