During one of my recent conversation with my youngest, he shared about how he and one of his friends were perusing my Facebook page. Let’s be honest, he was stalking it, but whatever. It’s funny because, years ago, he said that my generation took over that social media platform which is why he and his friends are on Snapchat.
Their intent was to look at old photos from when they were in grade school. He was amazed at how different he and his friends appear now, plus he critiqued me. Yes, friends, my twenty-year-old had the audacity to tell me that my hairstyles where “questionable”. Seriously. Questionable. As if I were wearing a mullet or a delightful Mohawk. Nope. He was referring to when my hair was below my ears. Nothing drastic. Just longer than what I normally have.
Most of my life I have had short hair. There were moments where I would grow it out where I could easily put it in a ponytail. But, honestly, with how fine my hair is, the shorter the better. In the 80s, when big hair ruled, I was unable to participate. My thin hair wouldn’t even keep a curl. Even a can of Aqua Net couldn’t aid in the effort.
Thank God he didn’t see any of my outfits from back in the day where I had a big comb tucked in my super cute jeans back pocket that said “Nice” or those amazing shirts with shoulder pads perhaps paired with some leggings. Totally cool.
I just laugh at his suggestion that I not grow my hair again. It almost makes me want to, just to prove a point. But, the process is tedious. And, honestly, I am too old for that shit. The shorter the better. I don’t even own a hair dryer. It takes minimal effort to style and, at this point, I am embracing my laziness.