A new haircut usually elicits cutting remarks
By Beth Teitell
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
I don't mean to sound like an ingrate, but I've gotten so many compliments on my new haircut that the situation has crossed the line from flattering to actually insulting.
People I hardly know rush me, desperate to say how ``glamorous'' or ``bouncy'' I look . . . now.
Which, of course, would be fan-freakin'-tastic, if only I weren't so humiliated for my former self. When I think how far along I'd be if only I'd gotten the right style years ago - no, I can't let myself think like that. I've got to look at today and tomorrow as a gift, not dwell on the past.
The strange thing is, I don't think my new haircut looks that different from my old haircut. A little shorter, a few more layers, and that's about it.
In fact, when I look at myself in the mirror, I don't really see a difference. But then again, what do I know? I am a person who walked around with a hair goiter attached to the right side of her head for 10 years.
``Fifteen,'' a friend corrected.
And it would have been longer, except that I saw a picture of myself recently, taken on a day when I'd actually had time to perform my full grooming regimen.
Well, I think it was a picture of me. It was definitely a woman, except that she appeared to be wearing a fuzzy shapeless pelt atop her head, with a bump on one side. The natural tendency was to look away, but I forced myself to take in the image.
``My name is Beth,'' I said aloud, ``and I'm having a bad hair decade (and a half).''
I'm trying not to be bitter, but why, in the Age of Meddling - a Trader Joe's employee recently shamed me for buying fruit leather instead of real fruit for my children - did no one say anything?
Why didn't any loved ones stage an intervention? Or drug me and cut my hair while I slumbered?
I asked a good friend why she sat silently by as I attended weddings (my own, even) and parties and gave public readings, all looking as if I'd just been released after five years as a hostage.
``Maybe it goes to the whole competitive thing that underlies women's relationships,'' she said. ``Do your friends really want you to look your best?''
Do they? Uh-oh. Maybe my hair doesn't look better than it did before, but in fact looks worse, and everyone's complimenting me to ensure I keep myself as dowdy as possible.
Yeah, maybe. But I fear the truth is even more frightening than that.
