I got my hair cut this weekend. This is not that big of a deal– I am always getting a new style because I get bored pretty quickly and always want something that I haven’t got. This time I went really short – a little pixie crop that I thought would make me look very Carey Mulligan or Mia Wasikowska. Very now.
I left the hairdressers feeling pretty fricking sweet about my new crop. And just like I always do after a major, hair-altering experience, as soon as I saw my husband, I smiled sweetly, fluttered my eyelashes at him and in a girly, little voice said, “Do you liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike it?” And while he normally responds with an automatic, safe, “Sure. It’s cute.” this time, he hesitated and said, “Not sure – I’ll have to see if I get used to it.”
This naturally put me into a major sulk.If he truly loved me, he’d think all of my haircuts were totally cute just by virtue of the fact that they were on me, right? Of course he would! He is clearly just a very, very mean man.
To be fair though, I do torture my husband quite a bit over my hair. Whenever I start to get bored with it, I start sending him photos of celebrities that I want to look like or pointing out cute girls on the television and ask whether he thinks their haircut will suit me. This has got him into all sorts of trouble in the past and he now tries to avoid commenting at all. One fine example of this is when we watched “V for Vendetta” which went something like:
Me: “Does Natalie Portman look good with her head shaved?”
Him: “Oh yeah. She looks hot. She always looks hot.”
Me: “That’s interesting. Would I look good with a shaved head?”
Him: “Ummmm... I think you have to be really, really beautiful to pull that off.”
And so began a sulk to end all sulks. He apologised soon after (kinda) but didn’t really know what he was apologising for. (Something like, “I’m sorry I said Natalie Portman was hot” which was SO not the point.) I know I shouldn’t really care that much about what my husband thinks of my hair and what is really important is that I think it is cute but I want him to liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike it.
In spite of this, I continue to experiment with my hair with little or no regard to whether I think my husband will like it or not. And it always tends to be pretty short or involve a colour that doesn’t really occur naturally (or, more likely, both). I just hate the thought of my hair looking boring or like everyone else’s (or God forbid, like my natural hair colour which is actually something I like to call “rat caramel”) and this need to be different far outweighs my need for my husband’s approval. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the era of Madonna and constant reinvention of self, or maybe it has something to do with my penchant for movies that involve life-changing makeovers, like the Breakfast Club and Clueless. All I know is that, ever since that first sachet of Napro Live Colour (and in spite of an ill-conceived, extremely short cut that I got when I was 13 that I thought would make me look like Jane from Melrose Place but that actually made me look like a fat little boy), I have been addicted to image-changing hairstyles. If I am feeling frustrated because I don’t have control over some aspect of my life or even just a little bored, I take control of my hair instead and cut or colour the hell out of it. I’ve been doing this for so long now, I wouldn’t know how to ask my hairdresser to do the same thing that she did last time.
And a hairdresser is cheaper than a therapist, right?
Anyway, my husband now claims that he is used to my haircut and has finally admitted that it looks pretty cute. This may have more to do with the fact that I have told him that my new blog entry is all about how mean he is and how him disliking my hair is a sign that he doesn’t truly love me. Regardless, I have decided that my hair actually rocks so I don't really care whether he is being honest or not.