I was a bit miffed when He Who Brings The Coffee greeted me this morning by saying “I just love what you do with your hair in the mornings, Hails”. The sarcasm fairly dripped from his words, and I glared defensively at him. “I’m getting it cut tonight, OK?” He sniggered, satisfied with my reaction.
Honestly, just once I forget to get my hair cut in time, and it’s front page news around here. People are pointing out grey hairs, mocking my unkempt look and basically insulting me to my face. Last Tuesday night at the women’s group in The Madhouse, Jo looked seriously at me when I’d paused for breath in the middle of a very enthusiastic and – I had hoped – enlightening lesson about identity. I awaited her insightful remarks. “Hails,” she said thoughtfully, staring intently at me and chewing on the end of her pen, “you really need your hair cut”. However, she is my hairdresser, to be fair.
The one that really took the biscuit was Mrs. M last Sunday morning. She came up behind me as I was sitting chatting to E1 and E2, and patted my gel-free, flat hair in the same way you might stroke a cute little puppy. Leaning down to speak into my ear, she said “Your hair’s lovely. It’s much more sensible like that. I actually get a little bit scared when it’s pointing in all directions. I can cope with this much better.” I looked at her face and saw her genuine distress when she made hand gestures to illustrate the general chaos of my hair when spiked. She seemed so relieved that I’d decided to go for “sensible” hair. My friends laughed at the horror on my face when she left. She might as well have said “you’re not a young thing any more, dear – you’re one of us, now.”
By this weekend the hair had gone completely out of control, and I was being steadily driven mad by a bit of once-funky-and-choppy fringe flopping floppily over my eye. McBouncy’s youngest, McGinger, bought a pack of multi-coloured hairgrips when we were out shopping on Saturday, and donated the red one to me (being ginger and unable to use red accessories). It kept me from developing a squint and preserved my sanity, but I was frowned at by an awful lot of people yesterday, all asking in confusion and disapproval “Is that a child’s hair clip you’re wearing?”. I was tempted to scowl, fold my arms, pout and say “Yeah… so?”
Anyway. You’ll all be delighted to know Jo’s fixing it tonight. It’s a shame, really – what on earth will people have to talk about tomorrow?
Coffee Helps: The Decaf Years 
I hear ya. Once, this old lady came up to me and said “Your pullover is very fetching, dear”. I almost stripped off in the street, and I burned it immediately upon my return home.
Being a redhead, I sympathise with little McGinger. Red is my favourite color, and I can’t wear it. Booo!
i must confess…i don’t get the whole hair thing. i’ve been surrounded by “the weaker sex” all my life and i just don’t get it…the streaky obsession, the fear of the dreaded “gray”…the whole things about needing the roots to be a certain color, you always change it without telling us and then expect us to respond positively and as if change were expected and not at all a surprise. oh, another confession, spikey hair is a bit scary….not that it isn’t lovely….but in a scary sort of way…kind of like Pink’s music…which i like..hmmmmm.
Joey – was it like Colin Firth’s reindeer one in Bridget Jones’ Diary? I WOULD have burned it…
Clarissa – you sympathise with her over her hair colour, yet you wouldn’t sympathise with me when I was sick?! Huh.
McDad – You make me laugh. I love reading your comments nearly as much as I love hearing you say fun things like “y’all”. Does my spikey hair scare you? Does it? Does it?! Mwahahaaaaa…
yes. i confess. spikey hair is, ummm, “walking up on a strange dog that’s growling and licking his lips” scary..you are not sure what’s about to happen but you’re pretty sure it probably won’t be good. y’all know what i mean? it’s “i just ate something gooey and i don’t know if it’s going to stay down” scary….a certain sense of pending doom, with no certainty of doom’s timing. its’ “i’ve got an itch and don’t know what’s causing it” scary……sit with that one for awhile y’all…that ought to have y’all grinning like a mule eating briars…happier’n a pig in a mudhole… and scared as a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
McDad, you have me sitting in tears… It’s my birthday and you made me cry! I wanted to laugh til I tinkle (Hannahs phrase) but instead I felt all sad:( Sad in “I want to hug you but your NOT HERE” Love you…
Scared as a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs – !!!!! This had me in stitches. I echo McBouncy’s sentiments (am not crying though. Don’t feel bad – I made her cry, too. I think it’s a birthday thing.) – we love you and miss you! Thank you for the laughter… :)
McDad. What ARE you on about?
Billy misses McDad. And McChicken Wing. Which sounds like a McDonald’s special.
oh dear ones…do you not know, absence makes the heart grow fonder…go hug a sheep and think “mcdad” while eating a fish supper.
reserved for its own comment…birthdays can have an adverse effect on the ability to control the, uh, tinkle reaction….unless you’re hannah and then you just don’t try.