Joan Dorsey
Contributing columnist
Over the 62 some years I have been around, hairstyles come and go in cycles.
When I was a little girl, we all wore pony tails. They were neat, easy to care for and kept your hair out of your face during hot summer months.
I remember crying and hiding when my Mom would grab the brush in the morning and start to work on my long hair. No matter what, it would have a “rat nest” (as they were called by Mom). Big tangled masses of hair.
My Mom cut and trimmed my hair till I was old enough to drive myself to a beauty salon.
My first haircut was done at a salon on the Plaza. A gentleman named Mr. Marc trimmed and coifed my long straight hair. It was an unforgettable experience.
My hair was almost waist length when my very dear friend was going to school to be a beautician. She needed someone to give a perm, too.
Do you all remember perms in the 70’s and 80’s? Well it took a good six hours and over 200 curling rods. I could barely hold my head up.
But I had the most beautiful long curled hair. That perm last about two years, and I always looked nice.
Right after that we all wanted hair cut into a shag. It wasn’t very flattering.
When figure skater Dorothy Hamill skated into our world we all needed her cute short haircut.
Well let me tell you, what was perfect on her had me looking like Prince Charming. That didn’t work for me either.
Years have passed. I have had my hair long again and worn it pulled back.
I have had it cut short and if not cut correctly I end up with “wings.”
My best description is I look like a hoot owl. No two ways about it.
Co-workers tell me I am exaggerating, I don’t think so.
So here I am – the AARP generation – and I still can’t decide what to do with my hair.
I am very fortunate to have very heavy hair. My children also inherited this trait.
I don’t worry about it being thin or going bald. I still haven’t settled on a style that is age appropriate.
I like it long but that makes me look old — Wait I am getting old!
Short is much easier and cooler in this humid Kansas climate, but I end up looking like either a hoot owl or Prince Charming.
I have no solution for this.
So if you see me on the street, and I look rather frazzled, well some days I just say “do as you will” and let my hair decide for itself.