fbpx

12.4.20: From the so-called desk of…

…Helen.

A Hair Raising Tale

What felt like an entire week of Thanksgiving doings, and whether close or far away, one way or another, we were all ready to be thankful together.

We started off mid-week with a virtual Thanksgiving get together with my children, grandchildren, my LA grandmother counterpart, and her daughter. It was all arranged by my daughter-in-law, so I was not sure how sharing a meal via Zoom was going to work, especially from four different locations. I’ll admit it was all pretty entertaining as we were all eating something different, and mostly not foods normally representative of Thanksgiving — unless you are willing to count spaghetti with turkey sausage, or turkey tacos. And since It was only 5pm, two guests didn’t want to eat at all.

Everyone made a real effort to be festive, and had Thanksgiving decorations on their tables. And being a good grandmother, mine included the painted metallic pinecones that my granddaughter gave me two years ago. Alas, she had quite forgotten, but my heart was in the right place.

But, unexpectedly, and at the moment we all “arrived,” the real focus of attention was not on the food, but on everyone’s hair. Amazed and amused to see so many family members with uncut long hair, there was a full five minutes of “oohs and ahhs,” and at least a few “uh-ohs.” The “oohs and aahs” were mostly directed at my son, who now sports an enormous beard, while the “uh-ohs” were specifically aimed at me and my husband.

Okay, so last March I decided I was going to let my hair grow out and stop coloring it altogether. I was home anyway, so it seemed like the perfect time. But I seriously thought that by the time I could go out into the world again, I would have a full head of natural silver and gray locks. Not so fast! I had no idea at all at how long it would take. Quarter inch by quarter inch I am still only about a third of the way there, with the extra layer of anticipation of whether or not I will even be able to stand having gray hair. I’m still waiting to see if my gamble will pay off.

My husband, on the other hand, started off looking a bit like Boris Johnson, quickly moved on to Einstein, but has ended up looking more like Gandolf than anyone. As a result, sometimes it is very hard to take him seriously. I briefly considered offering to cut his hair, looked at a video or two, but then chickened out… maybe in another life.

Now we are looking forward to a virtual Hanukkah with the family, but since it’s not that far off, I don’t expect much of a change in anyone’s appearance. But who knows, by New Year’s Eve, we might all look like Ozzy Osborne.

How not to cut your own hair.

Hair The Musical