357 Days - From Conservative Executive to Cougar Dominatrix

This blog was born out of a genuine desire to share what a woman who is approaching middle-age goes through in the final year before it hits. Its intent was to give some insight from the point-of-view of someone who intends to not “go down” without a fight, and more importantly, to never diminish the sexiness, beauty, appeal, or passion of the forty-plus group of women who make the dawn look a little brighter every morning that the earth exists, which leads me to today’s shining, shimmering, strawberry scent-filled topic… Hair.

Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

Long flowing locks have been my thing ever since I shaved my head completely bald in the winter if 1993 for no reason other than I was bored. My stylest has said that it was the greatest gift I ever gave my head other than that time Fabio accidentally rubbed his balls on it when we were on his yacht in Lake Como. Did I say accidentally? I meant… Hey, look! Someone left a copy of “50 Shades of Grey” with a “FREE” sign on it!!!

Some might say that my hair defines me and I don’t disagree. It’s long, and, well, I’m long. It’s a lovely brown with hints of blond and strands of copper and silver interspersed. But most importantly to me, it’s all mine. I stopped coloring my hair a year after I moved to Atlanta for a few reasons. For one, it’s costly as f*ck, as I’m sure most of you gals know. Another reason was time... I felt like I would rather do so many other things with my time than waste it sitting in a fume-filled chair while I listened to a 22-year old girl say “like” sixteen times a sentence while she told me about her best friend’s best friend’s best friends’ niece’s shoes. Not that I don’t like shoe conversations, but c’mon, everyone has their limit. But the biggest reason I gave up coloring my hair was that I wanted more of my personality to be represented in the way I looked and my true color was a huge part of that. Every day I dress for work and every day I choose a different theme – One day its vintage “I Love Lucy,” another, “hottie librarian,” on Wednesday,“conservative executive” and maybe I end the week on “cougar dominatrix.” Er… I’ve actually not worn that one yet. I’ll wait until Todd is out of town to pull that one off. Point is, that’s part of who I am, (and, probably why I love Halloween so much.) Every day my hair is different, too: Up, down, straight, curly, wavy, braided, bun, ponytail, etc. The hair matches the outfit usually, so the hair is also part of the theme. These are the facets of my life – the things that make up who I am – and to even think that I should be expected to cut my hair because I’ve gotten older makes me shake. ‘Bad shake’… not “OH MY GOD THAT’S THE SPOT!” shake. That’s clearly not ‘bad shake.’ That shake good. Me likey that shake.

In 2007, writer Esther Rantzen penned the following: “There's the unattractive truth that when most people get older, their hair changes texture and becomes coarse and difficult to tame. Think of all those elderly hippies with their brindled hair flying in the wind: not a good look.” She said “An older face framed with straggly long hair looks sad, even when it's not. It takes a young, round face with plump cheeks and a tight jawline to carry off long locks.”

Hey, Esther… have you seen yourself? No? Well, here you are:

Honey, a bag on fire and a beating with sledgehammer wouldn’t make you look better. You really think that long hair makes an older woman’s face look “sad?” Jesus Christ, lady, look at yourself. Remove those dentures and you’d look like Droopy Dog on downers no matter what length your hair was. Screw you, Esther. Screw you and the gay personal trainer Andie MacDowell rode in on last week. Who the f*ck are you, anyway? And why did I reference you? WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?

Listen up, and listen good. DO… WHATEVER… MAKES YOU… FEEL BEAUTIFUL. If you feel fine… no, sorry… if you feel ‘FINE’… then those who look upon you will feel fine, too. You will smile more, and you will laugh more, and I guarantee that you will live more. Let you, define you. And let Esther have her short, ugly hair.