“Hair” today, gone tomorrow? ~ Leah St. James

For those of you who are still in the vibrant days of youth, you might not be aware of the rather dramatic changes the body undergoes as it ages...you know, before the mail carrier mysteriously delivers the unsolicited membership card from AARP. You might not be aware that once you hit that threshold, your body parts morph into something unrecognizable, as if some alien creature has infiltrated your body at its lowest cellular level. (Yes, there are real-life shape-shifters, and they live in each of us!) 

Luckily, with a healthy diet (rabbit food served in kiddie-meal portions) and daily exercise—not to mention Spanx—we can maintain a modicum of control over the body’s changes, or at least an illusion of control. Clothing also can cover, camouflage and trick others into thinking we’re still among the demographic age group that advertisers actually care about. (Sagging skin is a whole other issue that I will not be addressing in a separate post.) 

But then there’s the hair. Sigh. 

I’m not a vain woman and never have been, but my hair was one part of my physical self I’ve always been content with. As a teen when I stared into the mirror and bemoaned the never-ending “fat girl” bullying from the boys, I took comfort in my hair. It’s always been fine, but with good body and some wave. “Styling” was wash-and-let-air-dry easy. (It also helped that I grew up in the '60s and ‘70s before the big-hair era.) 

This is me, four days after giving birth to Son No. 2.
Even my pregnancy-ravaged body produced hair I was happy with. 

Then came age and the unstoppable change in body chemistry that somehow stripped my hair of its bouncy sheen and replaced it with dull...frizz. I had noticed the change, of course, but tried to ignore it. Then one day a coworker (she of shiny, bouncy, waist-length honey-gold curls) stopped me as I passed her desk and said, “Oh my gosh, Leah, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?! It looks HORRIBLE! Frizzy and dry and...what happened?! 

I kid you not. This actually happened. 

After a panic stop in the ladies’ room, I called for an emergency appointment at a highly recommended hair stylist. When I got there, she circled my chair, her face scrunched in concentration, and said, “It has to come off.” Onto the floor fell inches of frizz, leaving me with a pixie-ish boy cut. And joy of joys, no frizz!  

I got home, eager to show off my frizz-free hair to hubby. He circled me, his face scrunched and said, “You look like a man.” 

Now, I know my hair is my own business, and if I like it, who cares what anyone else thinks? But this was my HUSBAND who thought I looked like a MAN. My happiness fizzled. (In his defense, he's usually my top cheerleader, and defender.)

So I grew it out, and here I am several years later, back with dull, frizzy hair. I’ve tried multiple products to battle Mother Nature—including those “age-defying” concoctions that promise to resurrect “dull, lifeless hair.” 

Then my current hair stylist said, as she circled my chair, face scrunched in concentration, “You know, you have perfect ‘wild, sexy beach hair.’” 

“Huh?” I answered. 

And she proceeded to massage some sort of goop into my hair, scrunch the ends, then dry it with a diffuser until my head was a halo (hahahaha) of wild, sexy-ish waves. And joy of joys, I liked it! The frizz was there, but looked like it was supposed to be! 

That was three months ago and I’ve been trying ever since to replicate the process/look. I’ve tried a diffuser (an implement of torture, if you ask me), a slew of products (most donated by caring, pitying friends), and have finally come up with a process that is semi-successful. 

• Wet hair –and by all that is holy, DON’T SHAMPOO. 
• Condition the you-know-what out of it with special age-defying conditioner that costs twice as much as conditioner for you younger ladies. 
• Hit it with the blow dryer (cool setting) for about a minute while rolling the ends with a round brush. 
• Squirt two pumps of a stickier goop onto hands, run hands through hair while scrunching, and let it dry naturally from there. And by all that is holy, DON'T BRUSH!

Finally, frizz camouflaged...sort of. And bonus—I don’t look like a man. I’m calling it a success. (If you're wondering what my present-day hair looks like...you can just imagine Jennifer Lopez in her cop TV show, only darker hair, with gray streaks...and more frizz.) :-)

 Anyway, if you have any hair care tips for those of “my generation,” I’d love to hear them! 

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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil and the power of love. Visit her on Facebook or learn more at her website.