Bob

I have had my hair cut and styled in some sort of bob, the majority of my life. 

If my hair hasn’t been in a bob, it’s been in some sort of short pixie type cut, or in transition from pixie cut to yet another bob.

My hair is baby fine.  Not an understatement.  It has no texture, it is stick straight, and super, insanely fine.  It doesn’t hold curl well, it looks weird if it’s been actually “straightened” (what’s the point of straightening the super straight anyway?)  My sister has been known to refer to my hair as “Fraggle Hair.”

My Mom gave me my first perm when I was three. 

An Ogilvie home perm.

When I was in first grade, I had the Dorothy Hamilton.  Most of the kids in my class did.

Then I had a mullet.

With only the bangs permed.  I know, you are jealous. 

From there, I pretty much remember having a bob, or my short pixie cut hairdo.  Probably because around that time I finally formed an opinion about what my hair should do and quit letting my Mom torture me.  Sometimes the bob would be asymmetrical, sometimes it would be inverted, sometimes it would be a bit wedgy, like now sometimes I would have bangs, in the 90’s I had big bangs, more than a few times it was permed (professionally) but it was still a bob.

My hair has been many different hues.  Mostly black, but on occasion it’s been blondish, brown, green (swimming accident,) burgundy, numerous shades of red, and one very unfortunate time when I let a guy convince me to color my hair with him, it was platinum blonde.  I have black eyebrows.  It was horrific.  Also, had to cut all of my bob off after that one, since my hair all broke off.  Hello pixie cut!

Once when I was ready for a big chop, the girl who had been my hair stylist for a while asked me if I would be interested in coming into their shop early on a Saturday morning to be a model for a class they were having at the salon.  I was a little nervous, but decided it would be okay.  The guy was a Rusk rep, and he would be sharing some “new” techniques to the girls in the salon.

Some of my best haircuts have come when I have told the stylist to do whatever they wanted.  When I was young I was brave.  Not so much anymore.

I showed up to the salon that morning, bright and early, and told this guy he could do whatever he wanted to my hair.  They put me in a chair in the middle of the room, in front of the girls from the salon.  Not a mirror within my line of vision. 

I have a couple of cowlicks.  One right in the front, at the beginning of my part, and one somewhere in the back.  The guy is cutting my hair, asks which way I part it, I tell him, he points out my cowlick to the girls, and then promptly cuts it off.  All the girls loudly gasped.  Scared the shit out of me.  This turns out was an inch long section of my hair, right at the hairline, next to my forehead.  This dude just cut my cowlick off.  Said I didn’t need to worry about the hair not going the right direction if it wasn’t there.

I was just thinking about how it could be time for a change.  Then I remember the mullet, the permed bangs, the platinum dye job, the cowlick chop, and think I’ll stick with what I’ve got.

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One Comment on “Bob”

  1. Jen says:

    I loved this post. Anything related to the thought of cutting hair is high on my list right now. My hair is annoying and at present it’s super long due to the donation attempt. So that means, right now it’s even more annoying than ever. And I can’t color it. Ok, I’ll stop whining now. Enjoy your bob. 🙂


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