| MOP HEAD - Part 3 by The Bard |
| Over the next few months I let my hair grow just beyond my waist and decided that enough was enough. I loved my hair, and so, it appeared, did everyone else. But I was a conformist teenager at heart and I only wanted to stand out from the crowd just a little bit. I asked my mother�s hairdresser to trim of three or four inches, which she did while sharing reminiscences about my one-inch crop of just a few years back I loved the freshly trimmed look that resulted from the cut. My hair still stood out three to four inches thick at the waist when loose. It completely covered my back and upper arms in its soft waves. When freshly washed and brushed, even I admitted to myself that its golden shine was very impressive. I was completely at ease with my hair. And that was it for the next few years. I took my place once again in the queue for my mother�s hairdresser, who removed an inch or two every six weeks. She often marvelled at how fast my hair grew. She claimed she had to take off two inches every visit � which I thought an exaggeration. Eventually, I left school and joined university. I was an immediate hit with the boys and had a number of short uneventful relationships in my first year. Money was tight and I missed the convenience of my mother�s home hairdresser. I still kept my hair trimmed to the waist, but would go longer between visits. I found a reliable hairdresser who would do what I asked without trying to tempt me with something radically different. In the second year I met Chris. Chris was a fellow English student from my college. It was clear from the start that he was enamoured by my hair, but he rarely said anything about it. Lying in bed, he would idly play with it and I could feel his mounting excitement. Somehow, my time with Chris went beyond the usual few weeks. We had a lot more in common than just mutual physical attraction. One morning I mentioned to him that I had an appointment with the hairdresser that afternoon. He looked crestfallen. I immediately reassured him that I was only going for my regular trim back to waist length. �Why don�t you grow it longer?� he asked. I realised I had no immediate answer to that, so I turned the question around. �Would you like that?� He looked bashful and embarrassed. I had clearly struck a raw nerve. He replied with a lame �Yes, I like long hair�. The subtext, however, was obvious. I had my trim that afternoon, but he had set me thinking. Why don�t I grow my hair longer? If anything I preferred my hair at just below waist length before I had my trim. Also, it would obviously make Chris�s day. I made no firm resolution there and then, but somehow, in a few months time when my hair was creeping over my jean pockets, I half consciously omitted to make my regular appointment. Towards the end of the second year Chris noticed that my hair brushed my chair seat as I sat and studied and the thought of a trim came back into my mind. This time I raised the issue with Chris. �Do you think I should cut my hair a bit shorter?�. His response was almost too hasty. �No! I love it the way it is!� Once again, he looked embarrassed. By this time we knew each other better, and he was able to explain to me his love for long hair. I was, at this stage, indifferent about whether it was longer or shorter, so his passion won out. The scissors could wait. The relationship with Chris didn�t last much longer and we split up early in the final year � just before Christmas. It was as much my fault as his. Looking back, I never respected him enough. I still feel a little guilty. By then, I could easily sit on my hair. I used to tease Chris by playing Lady Godiva. My hair was so thick that I could cover myself completely to the tops of my thighs. The sight of such long full hair and the delights hidden underneath used to drive him wild. My hair had grown about twelve inches from the last trim. The split with Chris had, for the first time, forced me to think consciously about what I wanted to do with my hair. Up until now, my hair had just happened for a variety of reasons �peer pressure, convenience, to please a boyfriend. Perhaps I should trim it back to my waist again. On the other hand I had started to enjoy the extra length and took a good deal of pride in it. My indecision and the pressure of exams led me to do nothing. It soon became clear that this wasn�t an easy route either. My hair continued to grow at a furious pace � my mother�s hairdresser was hardly exaggerating at all - and my graduation photo�s show me with my very own mid thigh graduation gown of golden wavy hair. Its length and thickness has caused my mother to question my sanity the night before the graduation. Increasingly, my hair had drawn remarks from friends and strangers alike � not all flattering. It was clear that I was moving into uncharted territory. I was not sure that I was either ready for that or wanted it. |