No haircut for me

Delaware County is expecting to transition to phase three this weekend, meaning haircuts and dye jobs will no doubt be abounding. I’ve seen lots of ladies in hats. I suspect it has something to do with the hair that’s hiding underneath.

I’m not going to be cutting mine.

I long ago freed myself from the tyranny of hair dye, and let my prematurely gray hair fly like a pride flag. At this point, it’s not even premature. It’s just what happens when you get older.

I think the pandemic shutdown may have ended my trips to the salon for good.


Don’t get me wrong. I think hair stylists are miracle workers. A good cut can make you feel like a million bucks. If you need to see a pro, by all means, go and godspeed. But it’s not for me any more.

My hair has always reflected my state of mind. When I’m in upheaval, I suddenly feel the need to have short hair. Then I realize it doesn’t feel like me, whoever that is, and I grow it out again. Recently, I believed that shorter hair was more youthful, less matronly. And maybe it was. But to hell with it.

I miss my ponytail. I miss being able to just pile my hair on top of my head and go out, knowing it looks fine. I don’t like blow dryers. I’m not going to iron my hair straight.

I’ve got perfectly good hair that I’ve tortured most of my life to try to turn it into what I thought was what it should be. And I don’t think my hair should pay for my tortured moods.

So it’s growing. Here’s my plan: I’m going to see how long it can get. I’ve never had hair longer than my shoulder blades. I’ve got 20 years, probably.

Everyone needs a hobby, right?

Read more installments of Village Voices by Susan Barnett.