I remember not too long ago making a decision to let my hair grow. As I'd had a pretty short style for a while, the growing was taking forever, and somewhere in there, I cut two inches off the back and thinned the sides and top with rusty thinning shears. The rust made no difference. I looked even more like a granny than ever. And I know I am a granny, but I thought I could stave off the granny hair bit.
Today I passed a salon I used to go to, felt my steps slowing and soon arrived back at the salon door. As soon as I'd asked if someone was available, I wanted to run. Didn't. I wanted to go home and change so that I had an edgier look. Didn't. I damned myself for decreasing my edgylook by having worn pearl earrings. Drat.
I walked home from the market with an imaginary brown paper bag over my head so no one would notice that my hair had been styled. I never do that. I mean I never style my hair, not that I never wear an imaginary bag on my head. I often do that.
At home, I washed my hair, let it air dry and looked just like I had on my way downtown. But somehow I looked like a shorter granny who hadn't been able to explain "edgy".