There are probably more than a few folically challenged men who have looked at old photos of themselves and longed for, or at least remembered the days when they had....well, hair. They are not alone. As with males, there are only some women who actually develop the lovely thick salt and pepper tresses as they age. As for the rest of us, there seem to be two choices. Option one is having gray, yellow, blue or even red permed curls cut close to the scalp. Option two is the thin, lifeless, flyaway strands in a style that appears to have been created by one of grandma's bowls and some nail scissors. I confess that have thrown in the towel and fallen into the latter category. Here's my story.
During one of my more recent decades, after my hair had passed its prime but my vanity was still hanging on for dear life, I decided to invest in some hair extensions. By definition "hair extensions" are strands of human hair placed onto a person's head in order to elongate or thicken existing hair. Seemed like a plausible solution to a distressing problem. Nobody told me that I would be spending an amount of money that could have paid off a small country's national debt. Nonetheless, I had these things melted onto my head all around the bottom and underneath my existing hair. I selected several shades of my own colour which then gave the illusion of streaks. I had hoped that the extensions would make the sides so thick, full and beautifully highlighted that they would provide a distraction from the thinning top of my head or the enviable recent sprouts on my chin.
All was well for a number of weeks. I proudly sported my new head of hair. However, hair grows and as the hair grows, so do the extensions. Eventually, pieces which had not originated from my scalp, began sticking precariously out of my head in 27 different directions. Not only that, most of the escapees were a brownish colour. This gave the illusion of antlers, although I'm fairly certain that no self respecting moose would agree to have his head mounted on a restaurant wall looking quite like this. I remembered being told by my hairdresser not to use cream rinse as it was very bad for extensions. So what did I do in my desperate attempt to remove the offending hair? I emptied several bottles of Pantene onto my head trying to free myself from this Medusa-esque appearance. At this point, I was able to tug, fold, spindle and mutilate them further, but sadly, not a single one came off.
While stressed and stuck in traffic one night, I unwittingly mauled the extensions and managed to get some of them to release their fierce grip. As an environmentally conscious adult, it occurred to me that birds' nests might be a perfect use for my newly removed locks. The traffic picked up and I disposed of at least 30 pieces of these real, yet fake clumps, allowing them to be sucked out my driver's side window. I wonder how many commuters received "surprise" windshield deposits as I happily freed dozens of extensions from my sun roof and windows during my next few days of commuting.
When I was certain that they were finally all gone, I gave a sigh of relief and a chuckle realizing the truth of the quote, " The only cure for vanity is laughter, and the only fault that is laughable is vanity." Oh, and yes, it would have been a great help if someone had only told me that hairdressers have a tool that removes extensions as easily as they were originally attached.