Cuts Both Ways

I have never considered myself transgender. Sure I covet men’s flannel shirts and baseball caps but the real thing that could threaten to tip me over is the haircut. I have great hair. Beautiful hair I am frequently told. The only problem is it’s my Dad’s hair. I have his cowlick, his texture and color. Now as a guy, for him it was GREAT hair. He would just do that 50’s cool Fonzie thing and slick it back. The cowlick does that little curl in front and he looks handsome. Dashing even. On me? As a girl? Not so much.

My first haircut (other than an end trim) didn’t come until the summer before 7^th grade. I sat my Mom down and explained that I couldn’t possibly start Junior High with braids and glasses. Off to the beauty salon we went. Of course being in line with the times I got the ever popular Farrah Fawcett Flip. Now no one told me that once I combed it back in that feather that my hair would want to do that forever . I should have chosen more carefully.

So now if you compose hair that wants to do a combo dance of the Fonzie flip and the Farrah Feather perhaps you begin to feel my pain. Throw in the fact that I sleep like a hamster under 4 pillows and my mornings get pretty adventurous. I have always admired my wife because after 10+ years of being together she has never once screamed when I popped out of the covers.

So it’s time again. My haircut has grown out. I have looked at 300 pics of current or trending cuts trying to envision my chubby little face in An Alicia Keyes ‘do.  Right now I wish I could be like my Dad and stroll into my barber, laughing and joking. I am not even sure my Dad had to give him any instructions as he had basically the same cut my whole life and looked great. Instead I will load a multitude of pictures onto my phone of “the cut” at all angles to show the hairdresser as I over explain what I want. Ah the price of beauty.