Getting A Texas Education

Lesson 1

Big Hair

 

            The first 7 months of 2014 have been a wild ride, but that’s a long story to be saved for another day. For now, I’m a new resident of Longview, a small college town in east Texas. Having been reared by a northern California snob, living in Texas is not something I ever expected or, in all honesty, desired.

            The night after Steve accepted the job in Longview I had a bad dream. I was standing in front of a mirror, shorter and blond, desperately trying to tease my hair so I could have big Texas hair. The more I tried, the flatter my hair became. I woke up and laughed at myself. What a dumb dream.

            The truth is, I’ve always wondered why women in the south spend so much time on their hair, and use so much hair spray. I figure it was a cultural thing. Growing up in the 60’s in the San Francisco Bay Area I never learned to “do” my hair. It wasn’t cool.

            I’ve had an epiphany in the past 3 weeks, a revelation, if you will. It’s not that a big hair do is the desired affect; women here have surrendered to the humidity. Hair in Texas is big. The “do” is merely an attempt to control how big and the Aqua Net is to tame the frizz resulting from the ever present damp enveloping each strand.

            I have a bottle of hair spray on the bathroom counter now, and I use it daily. That’s a change. Tomorrow I will begin the search for a new hairdresser to help me discover a “do” that will work for me in east Texas.

            Never again will I make a crack about “big Texas hair.” I’m the proud owner of a full head.

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Getting A Texas Education

  1. Hair. A major source of tension early in my marriage. My wife has ridiculously thick, curly hair—if she doesn’t dry it after washing, it will still be wet eight hours later. Left untamed, her hair resembles an abandoned chia pet (she burns through about one blowdryer per year). I, on the other hand, with my straight, fine, and now extremely short (but still hanging in there, thank-you-very-much) hair, don’t even own a comb. But thanks to Sonya, I’ve come to understand that hours with a blowdryer in front of a mirror isn’t all about vanity. And now, thanks to this, I guess I’ll need to stop rolling my eyes at Texas hair as well. Still learning after all these years.

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