Of Hair and Other MidLife Disasters

This entry is part 15 of 20 in the series Aneurysm

Aneurysm

by Jane Gassner of ByJane

This is not the first time I have written of such subjects. See here and here, if you will. My quest for a decent haircut NOW THAT I LIVE IN ELK GROVE has taken me on another journey. This time I went to a stylist recommended by two friends of mine. I like their haircuts. They touted this stylist as one who is au courant, not to mention up to the minute on the latest hair tricks and styling whatnots. They also said her salon was a bit…well, I didn’t really hear what they said. I was so taken with an au courant stylist within a five mile radius. Not to mention one who charges $35 a cut.

The salon: took me a while to find it. Kept driving by it because it is in the back of some huge government building where they pass out visas to barely legal aliens, or some such thing. When I finally found it–and it was in the back, down a long lonely corridor–I passed two women on their way out. They had perms. Those kind of perms that makes one’s hair frizz and kink and resemble rusty brillo pads. But I persevered, because I trust my friends and they both swore by this stylist.

And they were right. She is absolutely au courant, having just taken a class in texturing from some Hollywood bigwig. She textured the absolute shit out of my hair. I thought texturing was the new word for layering. But I think they use the word texture because whatever they’re doing to your hair gives it a really weird texture. In the normal course of events, I have really thick hair. It’s very shiny, healthy, and is a point of pride being my crowning glory and all that. Here’s what it looked like in high school–okay, the face is different, but the hair, really the hair is pretty much the same, with the added bonus of a streak of silver.
I no longer have this hair. I, who used to be the envy of all thin-haired girls, now seem to have thin hair myself. I have been textured into near baldness. My ponytail droops, a hundred hairs shy of its former self. And now way could I wear my hair down; there are no more thick waves to flip up at the ends. Well, there is on one side, but the other, near baldness. My glorious silver streak has been textured into salt and pepper. When I get up in the morning and see myself as I brush my teeth, I’m scared. I look like a hag. Frizzy and frizzled and thinning and–oh woe. Oh woe. I’ve already cut the back myself. Grabbed two handfuls of hair and chopped of an inch or so. It is marginally better. By a very slim margin.

When I spent that six weeks in the hospital after having a cerebral aneurysm, my hair showed the consequence of all the drugs and disaster. This time, I didn’t have to spend six weeks in the hospital to get a similar look. And I only paid $35.

Yet again and still forever, I am twisting my hair up, shoving a clip in it and thinking–oh, well, who was I wanting to impress?

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Tagged as: hair, midlife issues

  • http://www.sasstown.com Cecilia

    Maybe it’s not as bad as you think?

    About a year ago I came home with a much shorter haircut, about 3 inches off. I was met by total silence! I figured if they aren’t going to say anything neither am I. We all got over it and I’m still sporting a modified version of that cut.

    Of course, this is coming from a woman who spent a good portion of my childhood with a “pixie”.

  • http://www.runwaylights.blogspot.com Michele

    Envy salon, I swear by Ana. I pay 45 for my hair cut I get tons of compliments and have sent a couple women there and they love her too. Also James mark is good. About 50-65 for a hair cut. Envy waterman/E.G blvd across from Raleys. James Mark in the shopping center off of bruceville in the post office parking lot.

  • http://unmitigated.typepad.com Middle-Aged-Woman

    I have hair policies. Since my hair is really the only part of me that I really like, I refuse to skimp. It actually pains me when my daughter tries to get cheap haircuts. That’s policy number one. Policy number two is: Pay attention to the other stylists and their work, just in case yours is suddenly inspired to move to another state. That has served me well in the past. When Cody left suddenly, I knew I wanted to see John T. If, God forbid, he leaves, I’ll go to John A., thus nearly doubling the cost of the haircut, but I don’t care.

    • http://midlifebloggers.com byjane

      I’m willing to pay any (almost) amount for a haircut, so that’s not the issue for me. Cost a lot, cost a little–those with magic scissors are hard to find.

  • http://boomerbabyboomer.blogspot.com Joyce

    I really don’t know what it is about hair. If it’s not just right, we freak out. I remember in the early sixties,(just a girl then) I went for a Beatles hair cut and she wacked so much off my mother called it a pixie hairdo and thought it was pretty cute. Good grief, even to this day, if my hair isn’t at least to my shoulders, I just don’t feel right.

    • http://midlifebloggers.com byjane

      Joyce: I remember a poodle permanent. I think I loved it. I didn’t want to comb it out after the curlers came out. My mother was furious, but I knew then that curls were preferable to frizz.

  • http://midlifebloggers.com byjane

    I wish I didn’t care. I wish I had the sort of face–and figure–that could handle pigtails. Or maybe just one long braid. Today I thought maybe I’d have all my hair cut off again. I do that about every two years–in desperation. But really, a good short cut is even harder to get than a good long cut. I’m doomed. Maybe a wig?

  • http://www.midlifeonwheels.com On Da Road

    Jane .. I can appreciate that story. I hateee having to go get a haircut. I am usually am never in the same place twice, so every cut is an adventure. At least now that I am down here in deep south Texas .. I can get a scalp job for just $5 – $8 dollars.

    OnDaRoad http://www.midlifeonwheelsblog.com

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