Ooooh I can hardly type for excitement! The temperature today hit 23 degrees and all thoughts of winter and cold are suddenly filed away together with silly worries about doom and gloom - at least till November. Now it's the new season (and for me the best season, or as they so poetically call it 'round my parts, La Bella Stagione - wonderful, eh?). I'm making way for positive optimism and renewed confidence and am so looking forward to new beginnings.
Which brings me swiftly to the point of this little story. New beginnings, change, change, and more change... It's that time again. The big question, the big dilemma. Is it time? Can I still pull it off or is this (ie. the sneaky suspicion I may have reached that dreaded state of mutton-dressed-as-lamb) the perfect bloody excuse to go and chop it off once and for all and shut the hell up about the blimmin' hair? Here I am, wafting around as always with my long tresses like some ageing Rapunzel. Of course I've had long hair all my life so it's as much part of my character as my character but I do get to this stage every 3 years (it's like clockwork) where I just have to go through this process - and this time, you're coming through it with me. Were it not for the sheer terror/cold fear of completely losing my identity, I would have done it years ago. It's always the same: I spend weeks lusting after 'my perfect short hairdos' (see above) and it reaches feverpitch till I walk into the salon and every single time without fail some young whippersnapper of a coiffeuse talks me out of it because she, just like me, has absolutely no backbone. Sounds harsh? Well, if only I had a little of the Annie Lennox about me (that divine bonestructure, such angles, such precision) or the soft voluptuousness of Marilyn. But alas no, I am me! And it takes exactly this process (I can feel it, I'm almost through it) to realise that I do really love this long hair thing and that it just suits me and my style perfectly. I will never forget Mr R's words to me almost 20 years ago (and a few more times since), about how he thought older women looked fantastic with long grey, salt and pepper kind of hair....Well, sir, sticking it out with me may just be starting to pay off because it looks like that's gonna be my look pretty soon. Move over Annie and Marilyn, make room for Anne Bancroft.
If you can't quite remember just how fabulous Mrs Robinson looked, go refresh your memory by visiting this week's post on The Women's Room.