When I was little, my hair was more like my Mom’s. Her Thai hair was mainly thick and straight and had a bounce if you did the right things at the right time. She used to Dutch Braid it every day until she started cutting it really short and perming it. My hair was thinner than hers but straight and a bit stringy and also good at showing everyone what a bad hair day looked like. I would spend summers in the sun and the black would lighten a few shades to red and brown. The heat of the day would gather in my hair, holding it like a fiery curtain of dark brown embers. I took it for granted and as I got older, the kinky curls in my Dad’s genes began to take over. Now it’s generally curly. I have to style it when it’s wet or accept that I will have a massive cloud of big hair. When I was younger I was teased by being called Chewbacca and later Lion Lady, but I liked that name. I’m learning to love my curls, and imagine being painted like a Botticelli angel. One day I’ll be someone’s muse.
When I was little, I was fascinated with the biblical story of Samson and Delilah. It’s amazing what you hear about the bible when you don’t actually read it. (I’ve since read it and can go into the bible lesson, but I doubt that’s what you’re here for.) I heard the story of a man who let a pretty girl cut his hair and take his strength. Part of me wanted to be Delilah. Seriously.
Delilah was so beautiful, sensual, amazing that this man would spend the night with her, tell her what would make him weak, see it happen the very next morning, then go right back to her for more. “Gee babe, what would make you weak and average? How can I make you less than you are? . . . Is that all? Good night, love.” Morning comes, and the exact thing he told her would make him weak has happened and she blames it on the Philistines. And he believes her!
- Tie him up with seven new bowstrings that haven’t been dried.
- Tie him up with brand new ropes that have never been used.
- Weave the seven braids of his hair into the fabric on her loom.
So maybe he just wanted her to tie him up in some kind of fantasy role play, but he believes her when she blames it on Philistines and then eventually tells her the truth. Well, the third thing with his hair . . . I love having my hair touched and brushed. I get that. He then tells the truth that she needs to cut his hair and she shaves his head. Surprise! She does what she’s been doing, because she’s going to try to make him weak like she had already tried three times before. She has him captured, and he’s blinded and she gets away with her shenanigans. I won’t say she’s the original gold digger because she did it for money and it was like a job. That’s not what I wanted, but she had major allure, and I wanted that.
My hair is currently covering my upper back but it’s not long enough to cover my boobs. I’m growing it out again. I have part of it dyed purple but that happened in 2014 before it really became a thing. I saw a woman in Target with a swath of blue hair and it wasn’t in my face. It was more like something that caught my attention as we were passing each other and I turned to get a better look. I wanted that, but in green because it’s my favorite color. The hairdresser that did it convinced me green wouldn’t be as amazing as purple. Really, I thought about chlorinated blondes and that didn’t sound terrific either, so it’s been purple, but only the bottom layer at the nape of my neck and it’s usually not noticed.
I’ve gone short. Not pixie cut short, but I’ve bobbed it off. My hair is full and curls and it tends to make me feel like a fluffy poodle in shorter lengths. That feeling isn’t a good one, yet I’ve done it over and over. When I think about it, I avoid that in between phase where it’s too short to put in a ponytail, but too long to be comfortable with it falling in my face and making me feel hot.
There’s something so liberating about a haircut. My world can be spinning out of control and a few moments in a hair salon can feel like control and that is a heady feeling. I’ve had moments where I’ve considered having it all shaved off. Actually, in the 7th grade I had an unsupervised evening where I started shaving my legs, and arms, and ended up shaving part of my head. I wore scarves for a while. It was bad. I’ve learned my lesson and stick to bikini lines, armpits and legs. I’m not the only one that sees the liberation in lobbing off hair. Britney Spears did it. If you don’t remember, there’s a story about it here. I hated her early music because I couldn’t relate to it. Give her too much to handle. Let her fall apart a bit and take it back through sexual empowerment and I get and love her.
I don’t have gray hair on my head. I’m constantly looking for them though. I’m old enough. I’m willing and ready for it. I have had one or two but my ex pulled them out. I didn’t want him to. I loved those strands. They were faded into spun gold and they were mine and beautiful. I plan to go gray and let it happen naturally. I think the look of gray hair is dignified, but it’s also really sexy to me. I was 18 the first time I saw a doctor with salt and pepper hair and shocking blue eyes. I remember thinking for the first time that a man could be beautiful. I’ve known some fiercely beautiful women that let their hair naturally fade into hues of spun gold and shimmering silver and I want that.
I used to love boys with long hair. I love running my fingers through silky strands because the pads of my fingers are really sensitive and I enjoy that sort of thing. I’ve met enough men with those silky locks to now understand it’s work to get it perfect and they rarely will allow me to touch it. It then occurred to me, it’s not the hair but the man it belongs to. Finding beauty when it’s right in front of me is a gift.
I like bald heads. I’m learning that most men don’t like going bald and found this article if you’re curious about a perspective that isn’t mine. I’m more likely going to be able to touch them. I was talking to a man with a beautiful bald head yesterday. Part of his hair still grows and he keeps it pretty closely cut. There was something about the change from new growth to smooth skin that I really wanted to touch. Well, in fairness, all of him is attractive, but I had a moment of being stuck in sensory wonder and it felt really good. Don’t worry, I used self control.
Online dating is unique in the way where men expect to know and share more than you would ever disclose in person. Again, hiding behind a keyboard affords bravery and shields you from social responsibility and common sense manners. I met men that wanted to know what my private parts look like in terms of the hair down there. That wasn’t so disturbing. I know the ideals that porn suggests and I’ve seen it. What I never expected were all of the men that shave their private regions. I’ve always preferred the natural hairy look of a male body and that was just disturbing. But then, it might just be me.