Several of you have heard me yakking about shaving my head after getting settled in Montana. Why? To see what is my natural color, to obviate keeping it in a ponytail ALL summer long, and of course, because it’s bold and different.
As things worked out though, the day I decided I just had to do it, there wasn’t an appointment available for a shave, only a haircut, so I took it (a men’s shop, although they do have one regular woman client).
I talked through the whole thing of course, requesting the longest buzz they could do first, and then I’d decide if I wanted more. The process was fun
and scary
but I’m very happy with the result
For any of you who care, or who are politically minded, I did feel the casting aside of the weight of cultural expectations of hair color as it relates to beauty and age, the incessant barrage of product pushing for haircare and my hair itself! And yes, I do like rubbing my hand all over my spiky head fur.
Perhaps the (bald) eagle will land next summer, when there are no trips, engagement parties nor trips to Europe planned (that is, June 26th, after Miss Sarah’s wedding). Who knows…