Hestia considers....cutting her hair

Guess which one is me?

One bright morning in July, I sat in my Conference room in Birmingham and dashed off a heart-felt blog about my dreadful hair.

More than anything (even having a non-Scottish mouthful of straight, white teeth) I would love to have had swooshy hair.  Or even shiny hair.  I have hair that could pull trucks and provide a comfortable home for nesting birds.

I am thinking about getting it cut off.



This thought pops into my head from time to time and most of the time I can bat it away like a troublesome fly, but it's getting noisier and more insistent.  I'm putting it down to my age (approaching  50 at light speed) rather than a psychotic episode.

Today I was throwing out some magazines and, as I sat and re-read them in their entirety (which is what happens when you decide to throw out magazines) I decided to see how many women were photographed with short hair in the thickest mag.

I included the adverts and there were SIX images in the whole magazine of people with short hair - one was a man x 2 pix, one was a little girl, one was a woman of colour, one was a reader who hated her hair and the other was the editor.

Further examination of those short-hair images showed that everyone, even the lady of colour, had straight hair.  So, even though their hair was short - they could still have long swishy hair IF THEY WANTED *depressed face*

Out of all the images I've put up here of myself, none of them have my hair in its natural state.  So it's time to rectify that.  And the image you see in this posting is me - pre straighteners, many MANY years ago.  It's no longer that colour naturally and my jawline is a bit *cough* softer.  Look at it - not a hint of shine.  A veritable hirsute black hole for light.  Ignore the pretty blonde, she's not important to this tale. I said IGNORE THE PRETTY BLONDE. 

Let's be honest, no one could run their fingers through THAT without a map to help them get out. 

Straightening it is such a chore that I rarely bother, preferring instead to scrape it back with clips and hair bobbles.  In all honesty, not a very attractive look, but I am lazier than I am vain.

So, I sometimes think about getting it All Off.

What stops me?

Well, this sort of hair, when it's short, does not do wide-eyed Elfin gamine (see Emily Watson).  It does Old Lady.  Like this:

No offence to this lady....but... well...do I need to say anything?

 The other thing that stops me is that if I cut it off now, I will be 70 by the time it reaches the length that it is now.  And when I'm 70, it will most definitely be much more of a pain in the arse for me to straighten it and keep it with some kind of colour in it.

I sometimes wonder about getting shot of the dye entirely and turning into a Silver Fox.  But the hair that looks nice on a Silver Fox is the straight and swooshy kind (see Helen Mirren).  I'd look like this:

Again, no offence to this lady - but this is SO not what I want for myself

A couple of weeks ago Tertarus and I went up to Glasgow to go to a Justin Currie gig and I didn't have time to straighten my hair before we left.  I was acutely aware of my 'au natural' head and kept apologising to Tertarus for it.  He said that he wasn't bothered.  But this is, after all, the man that made me hang sexy knickers back up on the rail in the Anne Summers shop.  So that's not much of an assurance.

I hated it.  As soon as we got to the hotel (other than rootle about for a mini bar) I got my hair clipped out of the way safely.  Not very sexy, but not Fire Hazard either.

Maybe I should get corn-braids or a weave?

PS - Although this pic was taken at a toga party, it wasn't even Red Nose Day. *shakes head*  I don't know WHAT I thought it was adding to the overall ensemble.