Sunday, December 5, 2010

Hair Today, Gone Tomorow....

In the beginning, there is a baby.  Let's face it, babies are either cute, or they're, well, not.  You've been shown the photos (or handed the victim, er baby), of the unfortunate, wrinkly, unhappy looking newborn, and searching for something nice to say, exclaimed "Look at that full head of hair!".  Sometimes the ugliest babies somehow manage to come out looking like Chewbacca.  Not me of course, clearly I had Gerber baby potential.

Then there's the real live doll.  Whose hair you can cut.  Doesn't matter that you can't get the doll to sit still long enough to get those bangs straight.  You can just say "Hold still! Let me even those up."  (They never are).

Let the natural curl go for awhile.  Let her lick the brownie bowl.  With raw egg.  Before that was such a near life threatening treat.

After years of bad pixies, uneven bangs, and bowl cuts, let it do what it wants to do.

And then the end of 70's, the era of Charlie's Angels, the 'Farrah', the blow outs, the curling irons.  Hot rollers!  This photo still makes me laugh because under the sweater and the white shirt - torn jean shorts and flip-flops.  And a slightly creepy come-on from the photographer.

And then dear God, the eighties.  All I am going to say in my defense is that everyone more or less looked this way.  Even the men. I paid to have my naturally curly hair (!) tortured and permed (that smell!) on a more or less regular basis for years, and at the the time the compliments poured in.  I don't know what's worse, the hair, or that dress.  And let's not forget, I am a good 6' in heels....


With my friend Carl, who died from CF; RIP

I was rocking this version in 1988 when I met my husband to be, and somehow drug him to Olan Mills to record this do for all of history.


In 1991 when we got married it was probably closer to a mullet. Which was the same cut my hairdresser gave everyone.  It was Mullet town around here in the early '90s.


Then it started getting lighter (and grayer), and I started moving to a more low maintenance lifestyle.  No perms, no appliances.  Short hair takes more frequent cutting, and I succumbed to coloring for a long time.  And then I stopped.

It was blond...


And when it was silver, I stopped coloring it and let it be.  Even my hairdresser was dubious. But a short cut and about six weeks and it turned out the natural color was actually a pretty, snowy, silver.   Which requires 'blue shampoo' in order to not turn a weird color. (Pantene - you have a year to bring back a gray hair/blue shampoo).

And yesterday I said goodbye to it.  For at least nine months, my oncologist said.  Everyone said, 'maybe you won't lose yours...', but doc said 100% chance of gone/no tiny bit of hope .  I didn't want to have to deal with tufts of it  coming off in my hands.  On my pillow.  Drifting away.

So I said goodbye.  With a glass of wine (in truth, I will miss the wine far more than the hair), with some friends.  With a nod to Mark Forgione.  See I look just as ridiculous with a mohawk.


Everyone wanted to know if I felt lighter.  I felt lighter when the cancer was gone. For sure. I hope for good.  Hair, is just hair.  It's definitely chilly.  But I have lots of hats.

And a few rubs from friends.  So it's all good.


I think the earrings really dress up the look  (a gift from a lovely friend).

4 comments:

  1. Love the walk down your memory lane Tami! You rock a bald head beautifully and you inspire me!

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  2. Tami, I loved the walk down your memory lane. You rock the bald head beautifully and you inspire me my friend!

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  3. Lots of hats and better yet- lots of friends, old and new. Lucky women we are.

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  4. Loved the pics! I think we all rocked the Farrah, the Mullet and the bad perms at one time or another. You looked beautiful in them all, and you are every bit as beautiful without the hair. <3

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