Funky or Frumpy?

by Heike Boehnke-Sharp

 I am a “HAIR WOMAN”.

 If I were a man, my hair would be my balls (excuse me, but I have to make that point).

 I believe my hair odyssey began when I was about 10. I had long, straight, shiny brown hair, down to my butt. I wanted my hair cut so bad like the ladies on T.V., but my mother stood her ground. So I worked on my unsuspecting father, until one day he dropped me off at an Army “Beauty Salon”…if you have ever experienced one of these havens of “beauty” and “experience”, you will already know what is coming. They chopped off my hair, and when I stood in the doorway looking like Peter Pan, my mother almost killed my dad. That was my rite of passage, and the experimenting began with the wonderful, yet frustrating element of hair.

 At the age of 12 or so, I remember to well curling my rod straight hair for at least an hour with a curling iron, spraying in Hair Net, and making sure my little flips meet in the back of my head like Farrah’s before I left for school.  By the time I got to school, my precious masterpiece was a head of little antennas sticking out under sagging strands. But the ritual went on every day, sometimes twice!

 Then the eighties came, and one of my best friends and almost boyfriend (puppy love) was a HAIRDRESSER! This Spanish Hero was the youngest brother of a family of hairdressers, and he loved to cut, color, curl, twirl my hair. We chopped, shaved, and colored. Many of you will remember the horrid hairstyles of the 80’s, with Cyndi Lauper and Boy George as beauty symbols..I have pictures to show my daughter how “hip” mama was, with pink hair (accident, overexposed color), and shaved lighning bolts…aaah… 

After the pink disaster I toned down some, bleaching, dying, frosting, tinting, cutting, growing, frosting, etc. My friend discovered he was gay, and his friend did not like me, so there went my hair connection. For awhile, I fed my habit by “modeling” for trainees, getting free hairstyling, with the risk of looking very strange at times. I finally grew my hair out again.

 At 17 I rebelled and cut my hair off again. Actually, I went to a “posh” hair dresser that tried to give me the same hair cut as Tinkerbell, I paid waaay too much money, and cried for about 3 days. But I told everyone I did this on purpose.

 Since then, my hair has been my form of expression. My cousin, who I often went out with, once stated, “I can’t tell anyone what you look like so we can all meet, because I never know what color your hair is going to be.” How true. It was meant to be this way, because I was blessed with hair that sofar has taken all my mood swings! When I am depressed or have a lovers spat, I cut. When I feel frumpy, I dye. When I need a “pick me up”, I visit my hairdresser.

 On that note, I believe finding a good hairdresser is like finding a good man. If you find one that fits to you, you must do everything in your power to keep them! When I moved here and had to leave my “perfect” hair dresser in Germany, I went from one disaster to the next. I tried $12 to $100 cuts, but could not find the “one”.  This year, when a new hair style experiment went bad, my husband exclaimation when he saw me was “you look like a duck butt…”, I called my friend in hysteria. She said I had to go see her hairdresser, she could fix anything…..but…she had week-long waiting lists. I called her that night and pleaded my case. “I know you don’t know me, I know you have waiting lists, but this is an EMERGENCY, I cannot leave the house like this, my husband called me a duck butt”. She called me right back and I went the next morning. I had found the “ONE”!! Yahoo!

 That was 6 months ago, and I just got back from seeing her. I just found out I am pregnant again, and with that came wild hair. It was time pave the way for a new chapter in my life. So I left the house with shoulder length curls, and came home with 2 and 3 cm long spikes….a funky mama.

 Call me vain, but there is no better way to go from frumpy to funky, from sad to spunky, from melancholic to mischievous, then to find your soul-mate with hair scissors!

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