A few months ago, I permed my hair. I didn’t want to at first but there’s a story behind that one. For years, my hair had always been long, dark and straight with the occasional bangs on the side. However, some people commented (and even touched) my hair at my sister’s wedding, thinking I was donning a wig. Furthermore, my own wedding was on the pipeline so I figured a simple perm would do.
The hairstylist, nevertheless, reckoned that I’d get some Korean digital waves. “You’ll look younger,” he enthused. “Everyone’s doing it!” Oh, forget about everybody else. I just couldn’t say no to anything that promises to reverse my age. So I gave in and got myself some loose ringlets. Unfortunately, those curls lasted only for a second and then poof! Every single strand on my head became frizzy and fried. I held up my hair in a miserable ponytail for months.
Last week though, I straightened my hair back to normal again. It neither appears too young, not is it very old. For the first time in months, I now look presentable enough for work and play. And for the first time in my twenty over years of existence, I am now comfortable with this understated, albeit ‘boring’ look of mine.
The funny thing is the irony of it all. My hair had gone through several metamorphoses— cropped, spiked, shaved on the side, pixie-cut, that ‘60s bob. I’d been dyeing my hair since I was 13 and covered every spectrum in the rainbow (especially during my good old goth phase). These things marked my youth and naïveté and boy, am I glad that all happened. Since I had done a lot to my hair so early in my life, I no longer feel the need to re-live all those styles once more. Instead, they give me a clearer perspective of who I am today and the changes that I go through as I grow into an older woman.
Honestly, being stuck in a rut never feels good until now. It’s better to stick to what you know best. I never knew I’d learnt that so it must be the aging that does it. When the hairdresser asked if I’d like to dye my hair on top of all that straightening, I said no. I love my black Asian hair (and those few gray strands!); it reflects nothing but my roots and identity. I don’t feel the need to hold on to that single thread of my youth or defy aging. I also know the amount of work needed to maintain a certain look and I prefer to channel all that energy on something more beneficial on the soul instead, like yoga or sightseeing or good food.
On the other hand hand, I believe everyone carries that cultural baggage from their youth. There’s a possibility for women of a certain age to desire their long, lost hey days. But here’s news— we can’t fight gravity. That chest is going to sag. That skin is going to go parched dry. That hair is almost certain going to turn gray. As Baz Luhrmann reminds us, “Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.”
So the least we can do is to resort to clever grooming. Or better yet, live well, which sounds like a fine and dandy plan with me.
