"Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen"
|Me in my hairier days|
These words from the famous song from the play, HAIR, are not referring to a woman's tresses. And in my family, long hair was strictly a female thing. The 60s were tough on my parents.
Recently, I got my hair cut shorter than normal. A change was due. But in my family, a woman’s decision to cut off her hair comes after much anguish. I come from a family of long haired women. A family that put a lot of stock in the womanliness of hair. We all go to hair salons and do cut our hair, but our hair normally is at least shoulder length. I’ve been more of a trailblazer in hair length…but it always covered my neck. My mother is eighty-six and last week got her hair cut so that it no longer touched her shoulders—first time ever! She must’ve liked my new look.
As much as we were raised to love our hair, there were hair rules in our house. You NEVER brushed your hair anywhere near the kitchen. Finding a hair in food was akin to roaches in the rice. If you were at the dinner table and felt the need to run your hands through your hair, you’d be promptly reminded to “stop that. You’ll get hair in your food”.
I remember a plane trip I took with Mom once. I had the aisle seat, and she sat in the middle. Part way through the flight, the girl by the window took out her hairbrush and spent the last part of her trip grooming. I thought my mom would have a coronary. She had to tell our relatives on the ground how the woman next to her just wouldn’t quit playing with her hair.
Yesterday, while brushing my teeth with an electric toothbrush, I felt something lodge itself between two of my front teeth. No matter out I brushed, it seemed to become more compacted. When the brush finally finished its cycle and I could rinse, I felt it…a hair tickled my lip protruding from between my teeth. Oh ewwww!
It occurred to me, all my heroines have long hair. It’s about time I wrote a cute, short hairstyle into one of my books. And, hmmmm, wonder if I could write a murder by hair. Strangled? Choked? It’s enough to make me gag, thinking about it.
Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. Currently, they split their time between the pines of Northern Arizona, the desert of Southern Arizona, and the RV life. Wherever she roams, she spends most of her time writing stories of discovery, suspense, and the tangled relationships of life.
Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com
Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor
She blogs on the 9th and 24th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com
She blogs about life’s latest adventure on her personal blog http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8
Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_Whiteside