Tuesday, March 23, 2010

I have never received this much commentary on my hair in all my life

I’m 31 years old, and I was born with a full head of hair. It’s thick and dark and beautiful (I sound conceited even to my own ears, but I don’t mean to). When a person has an undeniably great feature, isn’t it okay to just bluntly admit it like that? Is J-Lo vain if she says she has a great bum? Is Brad Pitt egotistical if he says he has a perfect face? Is Suzie Q Non-Famous-Person narcissistic if she admits she has gorgeous skin? I guess I don’t know, but I really don’t mean to sound any particular adjective by confessing I have beautiful hair.

Besides, like every other woman (or man, I suppose) with gorgeous hair (except Jennifer Aniston), it has done me absolutely no good. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t care. I tend to wear it in a bun, braid, or ponytail most of the time. When I do wear it down, it looks bad because I don’t know what to do with it and therefore don’t do anything with it. It’s too thick. It’s too long. It’s neither straight nor curly.

But I have a lot of it and that’s apparently what everyone envies.

And now here I am, a week and a half after getting it majorly chopped off, and I’m writing my third post about it. That is way too much talk about my hair!

Everyone is so shocked by my haircut . . . it’s like the running commentary on what I eat. “She’s wearing it down today!” I had three people say that to me and before 8:25 in the morning. The part-time maintenance man at work asked me if I got my hair done and when I said yes, he proudly stated, “See, I’m a man but I notice things!” He saw me twice last week and didn’t notice.

A gal that I don’t have much to say to had the exact same conversation with me this morning that she did on Friday (the last time I wore it down). I heard a gasp from behind me, and when I turned around she was standing there with her head cocked to the side and the kind of look on her face that is supposed to be reserved for babies. You know, the Isn’t she a widdle cutie-wootie? look.  Not only did she have the look women give to babies, but she used the baby voice on me too:  Look at yoooouuu.   You are sooooo cuuuuuute!  Somehow I made it through the conversation without my head exploding.

8:30 AM: Another comment. Different person, same comment as before:  Cuuuuuuute! Sigh.

Is a new hairdo really worth all this? When is it going to peter out? How awful did I look before, for God’s sake?

I’m doing my best to be polite. I’m so annoyed I could spit, but I’m deliberately keeping my teeth unclenched and saying a simple thank you to all my admirers. I suppose I’m being ungrateful, but I think I’m so aggravated because my feelings are a little hurt by this sudden contrast. The more everyone carries on and on about how great I look, the more I feel like I must have looked really ugly before.

I’ve changed my mind. There is a difference in how people marvel at my hair, and it’s a writing challenge. Somehow I need to write the difference (because thus far in this post I’m coming off as a phony ingrate, and we can’t have that).

My feeling of aggravation is justified because two people in the hall just complimented my hair and it didn’t annoy me at all! I was very pleased by their comments (if slightly embarrassed)(the way a person should be when someone admires them).

And the difference is . . . ? Tone and emphasis.

Did you see the movie Mean Girls? Yes, with Lindsey Lohan. It doesn’t matter; even if you didn’t, the spiteful aura that surrounds and follows Lo Ho should be enough description. But if you did: remember Rachel McAdams’ character? The Bitch Queen. Her two-faced, malicious cattiness is well-portrayed. In a sickeningly sweet voice: “I looove your skirt/bracelet/shoes/purse/whatever! Where did you get it?” The word love somehow has three syllables. Whoever she’s talking to blushes and stumbles on their way. As soon as their back is turned, she makes a gag me motion with her index finger.

Back to real-life . . . I mentioned widdle cutie-wootie. That’s right. My co-workers are baby-talking me. Repeatedly! And, in addition to the baby-talk (as if that wasn’t bad enough) they are doing the Mean Girls thing and over-emphasizing their flattering remarks to the point of insincerity. Recall, I said one gal and I had the same conversation twice.  Talk about laying it on thick.  It's the fact that their praise is in boldface font that gets my back up. And underlined. And two point sizes larger.

Wow. I love your hair! It’s soooooo adorable! LOL!

The LOL and over-use of exclamation points gets me every damn time.

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