Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Sunday, July 04, 2004 Great Scot - another rambling post about hair!?As the only daughter with straight hair, in a family of curly haired girls, offspring of a curly haired woman who grew up with Shirley Temple, I remember a dreadful Saturday when mama made me sit in the kitchen while she put in, not one, but two, Tonette kiddy permanent waves. The result was the same stick straight stuff. It was such an awful way for a 4 year old to spend a Saturday the details have remained clear. I vividly remember Mama saying "It won't curl. I think I'll just let it grow long and put it into braids." Well, if you grew up in the 50's and the pre-Beatles 60's, you will remember that no girls had long hair, so I was both a celebrity and an anomaly. By the time I turned 12 I was begging mama for short hair, promising her I would take care of it, swearing that it wouldn't look like the ubiquitously named rat's nest. So, for my birthday, off it came, and I was given a set of those spiky pink curlers that made a torment of the night as my coveted badge of teenhood, along with a puffy frilly lace boudoir cap. The next day John,Paul,George&Ringo said "I like long hair." You all know the rest. There was even a silly pop song about Hair, long beautiful hair, and a musical. And I spent the next several years struggling with growing it out, cutting it off and never being satisfied with either. When I met BD, though, at the peak of waist length hairdom, he said "I like short hair better than long." I was in another growing spurt and shrugged, said something like "too bad" and kept on fiddling with long hair. But it was a nice little secret bit of knowledge to keep, just in case I ever wanted short hair again. Other women complained that their DH/BFs insisted (?) on long hair and I smirked inside, knowing that if I ever cut off my signature locks, pleasing myself would also please the most important man in my life. I had my final fling with long hair the summer I was 29, complete with curly perm. At last I had something close to the flowing locks of tumbling tresses cascading down her shoulder into the sea foam while her lover loomed over her in passionate embrace - you know - like on the covers of those bodice rippers - The same kind of hair my sister really does have. But after that, well, if you have long straight hair and if you've ever had a perm, you know what happens when it's about 5 months old. Right. Pretty hideous. That spring it all came off and I have not been tempted to grow it long again. It was then that BD looked up at me one day and said, "I like long hair better than short". Well. If that ain't ... Okay - no sexist remarks. He doesn't comment on specifics much any more, but rather offers up his compliments about the total package and since his eyesight is pretty bad, what he sees is sort of organically airbrushed into more of a glow than a body. This is one of the sweet blessings of a long marriage - one tends to see with prejudiced eyes - a vast improvement over, say, a camera lens. So - not much knitting, but certainly fiber. Keratin, at least. I did get in some lovely hours of spinning on the back porch (ably cleaned by Himself, the Darling) and now I have a bobbin full of superwash merino that I believe I shall ply back onto itself from a center pull ball. That's because I want to free up a bobbin to spin my CVM. I don't always finish projects, but I try to find an appropriate stopping point to break off my activity. The late afternoon was spent on the river which sparkled with a sudden drop in humidity. It was high tide, so the swimming was delicious and with nobody around we could jump in au naturelle. Dinner was crab cakes in front of the video machine, watching Armageddon. Yeah, I know. It was in a box of movies a friend sent LD and as we'd never seen it, and I was in a rare Trash Movie mood ... Well, I got some good laughs and in the night I dreamed I was forced to write jokes about the movie for a magazine editor. Why did Bruce Willis blow up the asteroid? Yeah. Serves me right. Happy Birthday USAposted by Bess | 7:19 AM |
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