Saturday, January 28, 2012

Love Me, Love My Hair: A Post for Big Hair Lovers Everywhere

Before I even got out of bed this morning, I was thinking about titles for this blog. And the mind - at 6:00 am - is particularly brilliant and inspired – or so it would seem at that moment. Those blog titles were flipping by like flash cards. 
I Belong to the Big Hair Club
Big Guitar, Big Hair
Big Hair is Sexy
Channeling Amy Winehouse
Two hours later, that bubble of brilliance has popped – and almost all of those titles have disappeared. I had planned to fill my blog up with titles, without ever getting into the mentality of someone who espouses the philosophy of “No Hair Too Big.”
A few years ago, my sister and I went to see Art Garfunkel with the KC Symphony. Our seats were pretty far from the stage, and  Art was just a tiny figure far, far below. We couldn’t make out his face at all. What we agreed upon after the show was that all we could see was a giant halo of copper hair! One has to wonder, had he not had big hair, would we have been convinced that he was really there?
Big Hair ensures that you will not be missed, I guess.  
Reasons why. I. Love. Big. Hair:
It’s fluffy.
It gives the illusion of more.
It’s fascinating.
It’s a statement.
It’s sexy. If it isn’t, why do I own hair spray called, “Big Sexy Hair.”
It creates a boundary which should not be crossed.
It distracts attention away from the imperfections of the face.

When Big Hair is not a good idea:
At a job interview.
In a movie theater.
At the pool – if you intend to get it wet.
Near an open flame

Of course I’ve seen people take it too far!
Yes, yes, I realize that huge hair can be an extreme statement. It can be an indication that something’s amiss. ……….Or a-missin’. But judge ye not too harshly, my friends.  You know the old saying: Love me, love my hair......


  1. Hmmm .... I seem to vaguely remember this hair thing of which you speak.

  2. y'know, i'd like to see a pix someday

  3. go big or go home..... in the 60's, we all had big hair, and it was strangely elegant. updos, flips, bouffants, and of course, the afros. ahh, a more glamorous time it was, when women wore gloves and exotic black eyeliner. today it's pajama pants and dreadful locks. you're singin' my song with this post, laura.

  4. I am a big hair devotee. When women started straightening their hair with those flat irons, and making it all flat, I knew for sure that society had gone to hell in a handbucket. Or basket. Whatever.

    I myself don't have the ability to keep my hair big. I can make it big for about a minute, and then it falls. If I had that personal hairdresser I dream about, the one who doesn't have a life but just comes to my house at my beck and call, because I'm paying her (him?!) so much---I would have bigger hair than you, sis. But my lifestyle doesn't support the big hair ways, and I don't have the skills. But I dream, oh yes, I dream.

    1. bigger hair than me?? i cannot allow that to happen.