IN THE BEGINNING. Unable to see stylist. Taking matters into my own hands, began to trim the ends off with a razor comb. Colored it with something called hair mascara. Did photo shoot with cat for Facebook page.
Quite a few months in. (Already lost track of time.) Not happy about my attempts to keep it short. Natural colour showing through (grey or blonde or what??). Keep thinking about making an appointment, and not making an appointment.
PANDEMIC PONYTAIL. More than a year in. No more razor combs, no more hair mascara. This is what it looks like. First, I haven’t worn a ponytail since I was eight. I haven’t seen my natural colour (whatever you call this - I will call it blonde, but in natural light it looks grey) in over 30 years. It is a totally different texture, the annoyingly tickly cornsilk of my childhood. I wore the same side part and barrette when I was five years old. I think my stylist would scream if she saw what has become of me, but if the entire world changes, so does your identity.
Acceptance?? I look ten years older than I did a year ago, but then, a lot has happened, and NOT happened, and my hair is the least of it.
I am back to my five-year-old hair. But at least I look happier now.
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