While I prefer to think I'm found memorable for my mind, it seems I'm often unforgettable for my hair - or, for the past ten years, the lack thereof. My hair has been up, down, and all around. Its current length is no declaration of my politics, sexuality, or anything else. Quite simply, it makes me feel utterly and completely beautiful. I've stopped being astounded at the reactions I get, every day, often multiple times a day. Women constantly tell me how good it looks and how much they admire me for it - the caveat being that some of my female friends worry it's an impediment to happiness. Gay men generally love it and hetero men mostly hate it or have to work their way into acceptance. So silly - I'm still the same person (well, actually, better with the perspective age brings) who had a braid down to the tush, a perfect Louise Brooks bob, a short curly (constantly expensive) perm, and everything in between.
For the past few weeks, for reasons completely incomprehensible to me, negative comments on my hair have ramped up to a level difficult (even for me) to ignore - prompting even more navel-gazing in a summer already way too stuffed with it (as readers of my three blogs have no doubt observed). I never say never about anything, so, sure, I'd let it grow for the right reason, whatever and/or whenever that might be, but in the meantime - if this is one - please just leave me be.
And so from the "I Couldn't Make This Up If I Tried" department, walking through Mount Vernon last night en route to Iggies (OMG the funghi and Alice pizzas), deep in thought the entire way about my hair (what a thorough waste of time), I encountered a conventional-looking chap about my age, wearing an Orioles shirt, baseball cap, etc., who, as he was about to pass, said "Nice hair!" Of course, that stopped me in my tracks for all the obvious reasons and a brief conversation ensued, during which he asked if my 'do posed a problem at work (I'm still puzzled by this question), and as it was just cut (every two weeks - thanks Linda) and still looks and feels like lush silk velvet, he asked what a lot of people ask - could he touch it? - and I saw no reason not to oblige.
The universe, as usual, provided exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it, and today, this velvet head is busy thinking about things much more important.