January 16, 1965
I got my hair cut today. It looks like this: (drawing to come) This is when it isn't set. I called up B and told her how I'd like it changed - the theme, not my hair. We would have Old West half and new West half. It will be easier, then, to introduce the combos. I babysat for the Os and got $3. At 8:30 I called H and we talked until 11:00.
January 16, 2023
Oh, my hair. Long, short, or in-between, it was never right. It can be wavy. When it’s long enough, it’s almost straight. In the humid DC summers, it has a wild party on my head. In my teens, twenties, and thirties, I pursued every trend, without success. My flip flopped. I could get a Twiggy haircut, but never her body. Perms? Don’t even talk about perms. I have cut my own hair (there was a cool how-to book in the 70s, and I was moderately good at it).
I am finally at peace with my hair. Gray is good. I can wear more colors with gray hair, it turns out. My hair is short in the summer, longer in the winter. If I start to want to wear it in a ponytail, that means it’s time for a haircut, because it’s starting to annoy me. It has to be short enough in front that it doesn’t get in my eyes when I swim. About once a week someone tells me my hair looks nice. “Thanks,” I say. “It does what it wants.”