The truth about long hair


Yesterday I walked into the living room to find my boyfriend removing a hair ball from our, very distressed, cats mouth. This was no fur ball. It was a human hair ball.

These rogue strands aren’t just blocking animal air ways, they’re also clogging the shower, finding their way into stews, and clinging to jumpers as tightly as Victoria clung to Becks post Rebecca Loos-gate ( remember the cringey skiing holiday photos?!)

If I don’t tame the beast on my head by plaiting it before lights out, then I awake with sweat poring down the back of my neck, and a family of bluebirds setting up home on my head. It takes at least 30 minutes to blow dry, and in the wrong style can look less 60’s sex kitten, more 65 year old ageing hippy .The long haired ones didn’t warn me about this.

In the past I used to look at Beyonce with sheer hair envy. Now all I feel is pity.  I watch her shaking her mane during Crazy in Love and feel  tired for her – her poor neck, all that heavy hair, she must be so clammy under there!

For the majority of my 20’s I was determined to betray genetics, using bleach to turn my dark brown hair bright blonde.  As a result I sported a style referred to by my sister as, ‘President’s wife’s hair.’  The bleach would break my hair off into poufy feathered styles that I had little control over. I let fate and the bleach decide. The look I was going for was Kate/ Sienna, but what I got was Clinton/Bush.

My insecurities were not helped by the fact that I was surrounded by an early incarnation of Haim – my sister, flat mate and best friend all had glorious long locks . I was gripped by jealousy and would literally dream of long hair. For those first few seconds of waking up I would think that my pillow was awash with silky long tendrils, but turns out I was still rocking the same bob/ mullet hybrid I went to sleep with.

I decided that long hair was the height of femininity and gorgeousness and without it I felt like a half -woman frump. Culturally long healthy hair signals a woman’s youthfulness and fertility. So what then does a mad mullbob™ signify?! I though that everything would fantastic when I had long hair.

Finally I decided to raise the peace flag on my scalp and stop the chemical attacks. As a natural brunnette it made sense that I should look to chocolate topped lovelies such as Zooey Deschanel and Helena Christensen as my inspiration. Within 2 years of sheepishly showing a picture of Helena to my hairdresser I now have to stand up while getting a trim.

So now I have long hair, and that’s precisely what I wanted. The thing is I don’t need it as much as I did back then, when I was a shaky young pup teaming with insecurity and self loathing. Now I’m nearly 30 I have grown to quite like myself and can see the perks of a hassle free bob, plus the cat would be safe.The Truth about Long Hair

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