Oh, Magic Hair Fairies, Grant me my Wish.

I make fun of everyone else, why not me?

If you recall, I’ve been trying to grow out my hair.  I used to have long hair.  Then I had babies and they’d grab my hair, usually just about 4 strands at a time, and rip them out of my living flesh.  OUCH.  No one tells you this stuff before you have kids, “Use lukewarm water for baby’s bath.  Cover the electrical sockets.  Burb baby after she eats.  Shave off all your hair.”

I got tired of my hair being ripped from my scalp realquick, so I got shorter and shorter haircuts until my hair was so short you could see my scalp through it.  When it’s only 1/2 an inch long, that happens.  I had to wear extra eyeliner and a lot of pink so people would know I’m not a boy.  (Why is the song Karma Chameleon running through my head right now?)

But, recently, I’ve been deluding myself into thinking that maybe I would look good with long hair again.  Not sure why, since it was a rare day that I had a good long-hair day, but hope springs eternal. Maybe the Magic Hair Fairies will reward me for my many years of faithfully arranging my hair in such a way as not to cause small children to run screaming to their mother’s skirts.  It’s been hard work forcing this hair to comply, and I should get some sort of reward, shouldn’t I??

But on the long quest for lush and long hair (with a bit of wave, can you arrange for that as well, oh Magic Hair Fairies?), there are many difficult valleys in this pilgrim’s progress.

I have entered the first of the valleys.

I had an inkling that all was not well on Photo Club Day this past Saturday.  On Photo Club Day, you will be photographed.  Get used to it.  I like to see what everyone else’s pictures look like, and I happened to notice that the ones they took of me showed lank hair that was just lying around taking extra long smoking breaks.  Plus the grey is starting to muscle it’s way to the front of my head just so it can be the center of attention.  Why?  Why is the grey only smack in the middle of my forehead?  Why? Why?!?

Here’s a picture from Saturday:

Hmmm.  Maybe it was just a one-time thing.

No.  Sunday was worse.  Someone posted a picture of Paul McCartney on Facebook, and I was dismayed to realize that on Sunday, Paul’s hair and my hair looked the same: sloppy and unkempt.  I recreated Paul’s picture just to be sure…and yes.  We definitely look the same.  When my father-in-law dropped off the kids at my house yesterday, I noticed him looking at my hair askance.

Here’s Paul:

This picture was stolen from someone’s Facebook page. I don’t even know whose, because I can’t find it on Facebook anymore. Where did it go??

Here’s me:

And today!  Today!  I don’t even know what’s happening today.

Today, Gerhard stopped by to show me a camera bag.  But when I opened the door he almost toppled off my porch steps as he recoiled from the wild hair on the top of my head.  Now it’s not only taking long smoking breaks, but it got a tattoo and an eyebrow piercing in its rebellion against order and decency.

A few minutes ago, I walked past a mirror wondering what I’d write about tonight, and was shocked and horrified at what I saw.

See?

Actually, it might not have looked this bad all day, but just before walking in front of the mirror I was assessing essays.  You can tell from the hair how that was going.

Throughout the day today I tried covering the hair with a scarf, but the black one only contrasted with my grey bangs and made me look like a babushka.  And the polka dotted scarf, oddly enough, made me look like a pirate.  Arrrrr!

The headband made my hair smoosh down on the sides so I looked bald on the sides.  The bobby pins reminded me too much of the witch from Loony Tunes who was always losing her bobby pins.  Only, her hair was big and puffy, but the bobby pins made my hair flat and lank.

Wednesday is Soup Day.  I’ve already asked Sandy to cut my bangs for me, and I’m wondering if she’ll have any ideas of how to handle the next few months of weird smooshed-sticky-out hair.

I dunno.  I’m not hopeful.

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Speaking of hair, anyone recognize this guy’s hair?  Those who know me in real life might know.  He was sitting right in a patch of sunlight, looking radiant and photogenic.  I’m wondering if he has a side job assessing essays…

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P.S.  Darling Husband read this and said, “Oh, your hair’s not that bad.”  I said, “But what about the wings?  They won’t go away.”  He said, “Well, yeah, the wings look really bad, but other than that, it’s ok.”

Sigh.