Friday, June 12, 2009

Hairs etc.

There's no way I'm going to break this inadvertent blog silence with with something deep and incisive--too much pressure. So instead I'll give you an update on my hair.

I love this haircut. This is the only haircut I have ever had that looks better dirty than clean. I've always been one of those daily hair-washers, even though clueless ladymags like to tell you to wash less frequently. I do see their point, for everyone except those of us with very fine, straight hair and overachieving sebum. Letting that kind of hair go for more than a day does not impart a tousled, beachy, textured look. It is basically a commitment to looking like a stringy greaseball. While I have often been more than willing to make that commitment, it was never in the service of ladymag advice; it was more like "well, why would I shower if I'm just going to work at home and go to the gym later, so pass me that do-rag." But now I have hair that I can wet down and re-mold in the morning and just fluff up after taking off my bike helmet. A little sweat makes it look better. So I got that going for me.

Less exciting is the fact that this haircut revealed a sparse collection of hidden gray hairs. I've pulled out maybe 6 of them in the last year, so it's not a total shock, but I still have to admit that I'm not ready for them. I'm turning 35 in a few months and while I realize that 35 ain't shit, chronologically speaking, I have also got a few sunspots and like 15 pounds that I didn't have a few years ago. The pounds might just be office-job creeping weight gain, but still, you'd think that biking an average of 50 miles a week and staying otherwise active would keep that shit in check. I briefly contemplated counting calories and nutrition info to find out what was up and when I entered my food intake and activity for the day into the online counter, it kept telling me I could eat an additional 1000 calories that day. Huh.

I can't get too fussed about the chubb because even though I'm like damn, these pants don't really fit, I'm stronger than I was 15 pounds ago. (And no, it ain't muscle weight except maybe in The Thighs.) And I can't get too fussed about the grays because how kick ass would this haircut look in silver? But like maybe if I'm going to see signs of aging coming this far in advance of Aging, could I get some wisdom and less acne to go along with them? Thanks, Cosmos. You're okay by me.

7 comments:

  1. Boy do I feel you on these signs of aging. I'll be turning 39 next month and between the inevitable pull of gravity, the sunspots, and the gray hair, it has been a spring of reckoning for me.

    Your haircut is the business though. I love it.

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  2. Gah! I just turned 39 and oh boy, the grey hairs and the body shlub. Oh well, I'm excited about your haircut since it sounds like I have the exact kind of hair as yours...fine, greezy and straight.

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  3. Maves, I've had the stray gray hairs since 27, and a younger husband who likes to point them out to boot! I tried tweezing them out a few times, but now they're growing in greater numbers, so I've embraced them. Whenever I see one sproinging up like an alfalfa on the top of my head I smile. Like as if to say, "I really made it this far?"

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  4. I have some chub creep going on too. Cannot explain it, but at least I lost the weight obsession of years gone by ...

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  5. Oy vey. 35? Check. Sun spots? Checkity check. Insanely wiry gray hairs? Triple check. Being the young one has been such a key part of my self-conception in so many ways (few of them healthy) that these first incontrovertible signs of aging have really been tripping me out.

    Your hair, on the other hand, is fucking fierce.

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  6. Any package you got is ok by me too.

    If my shit would grow in pure white-silver, I'd all embrace that too. But it's not looking like that, of course, so Rich Chocolate Brown from some stuff I buy at Whole Foods it is! The layer around my middle and the deepening lines, feh, what am I gonna do? Bring it, 42!

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  7. I turned 27 yesterday and celebrated with a visit to the optometrist and the news that I need reading glasses. At 27. Here comes the granny look...

    My sister calls it the Near-sighted's Revenge, but never dreamed it would come this soon!

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