Friday, May 14, 2010

Where, is My Hair Brush?

Eighteen days. Eighteen days of spiky, “wow” hair. And then? My hairdo will gladly send out change of address cards, something unique, notifying admirers and onlookers that it can now be found under a hat, swathed in a tichel, and maybe, someday, stacked under a sheitel for specific simchas for specific relatives with specific, let’s say, hair how-tos.

But, you know, I didn't always have this hair. Once upon a time my hair was long, flowing, and thick as the day is long. The joy of covering in a few weeks is that I can sort of do whatever I want with my hair and no one will EVER know (save Tuvia, of course). I could dye my hair bright pink (like people poked and prodded me to in college) or give myself a perm (like my father always dreaded). Maybe I'll have a fun "vote on Chavi's haircut"thing monthly. Of course, y'all wouldn't be able to see it. I'd share with you, however, unless that's not tzniut! The adventures in hair begin here, folks. No more hair goop, either. Goodbye hair goop.

How do you deal with the loss of free-flowing hair? How do you own your coverings? Did you choose not to cover? How did you make the tough decision? Advice on getting down with your bad hair-covered self?