Too Bad About Your Hair
Mothers, Daughters, and the Hair Between Them
“You’re getting your hair cut? Again?” - Mom
I am one of a fleet of daughters well acquainted with a mother’s personal appearance remarks. Over the years there have been comments (which I’m sure were meant to be helpful 😤) about my clothes, my weight, my posture, my complexion—but none as consistent and annoying as the feedback about my hair. The general theme is: my mom wants it long, and I have a history of short (even pixie-short hair), and my mom, whose credo is “a woman’s hair is her crowning glory” has never held back an opinion.
A week ago I was eating lunch with said mother at a Scottsdale restaurant she likes for their calamari. She didn’t, however, like the noisiness of the boxy restaurant, with good reason. Between the loud pop music and the buzz of conversation, it was like getting your senses pounded from the inside out.
But my mom really wanted this calamari, and I appreciate a craving. So, despite it being 102 degrees, we took a table outside, beneath some useless misters. Sweat lathered my neck and forearms. I hadn’t exercised in five days and was twitchy and peeved. Our silence was broken when my mom took my hair in her hands, ruffled it gently, and said with a little sigh:
“It’s too bad about your hair, it was so much better last time. Oh well, it will grow out.”
I’d like to tell you I recovered swiftly because at 58-year-olds I was now the evolved daughter.
But I didn’t recover swiftly. I was a little knot of anger, a hissing feline. Our meals arrived, and I soothed myself with a pair of fish tacos and some mysterious apricot-colored sauce.
Here’s what was strange: Along with that silent rage, there was excitement. I had a story to bring back to my girlfriends, and especially my husband, Steve who loved to hear about my mom’s comments. A recent favor had been, “Tatyana, do you ever use purses anymore?” once I started wearing a multi-colored Cotopaxi fanny pack everywhere.
You know what’s one of my favorite things in the world?
Making my husband laugh. One of the greatest unanticipated marriage joys has been cracking this man up—even (or especially) at my own expense. So I looked for opportunities. I knew what made a good funny story, and even if I was at the receiving end and piping mad or feelings hurt, I stashed it away for later.
That night on the phone with Steve I went into full performance mode, dropped in the comment and how pissy it made me, added some dramatic flair to the tune of “why me”, and sat back and listened as Steve laughed and laugh. It was (almost) worth it.
Karma baby, karma
Fast forward a week later, my mom has escaped the heat for Seattle. She moved into our guest studio. Steve went out for a haircut. I worked from my home office. When we met up in the kitchen for dinner, I received a sweet surprise gift delivered by angels and packaged in spun gold.
“I was in a bad mood earlier,” my husband declared. He and my mom sat at the counter as I prepped some veggies.
“You were?” I stopped peeling carrots. Steve is steady-tempered and never talks about his moods.
“Yeah,” Steve nodded, looking a bit hang-doggy. “When I came home from my haircut, Mom told me my hair looked terrible, that it was too short.” I glanced at my mom. She didn’t flinch. I figured this was a joke, so returned to peeling. “It made me sad,” Steve continued.
“No way!” I said. Steve has a habit of pulling my leg, and I have a habit of falling for it.
“I’m serious,” Steve said, with feeling. “Then she asked if my hair grows out fast.”
I looked at my husband, back at my mom, to my husband, back to my mom who showed no signs of remorse.
“I just like long hair.” My mom shrugged and walked into the living room.
I won’t tell you how overjoyed I was when I yelled “Welcome to my world!”, or how I kissed every inch of Steve’s beautiful silver head, whispering how close I felt to him, or how I pestered my husband all night long with “tell me again, what did she say, exactly, word for word.”
“I’ve never felt so close to you,” I said over and over, glomming on to him like a teenager in love.
Steve didn’t enjoy it quite as much as me.
“I see what you’re talking about now,” he said half chuckling, half grimacing. “It doesn’t feel great.”
Is there any way to describe how this might have been one of the best moments of my life?
Now, my mom lives nearby which is wonderful. It also means a steady stream of hair-related comments. “Brush your hair” or “She should be ashamed at what she did to your hair.” “I’ll pay for you to go see someone new.”
Sometimes, if Steve, my mom and I are getting dinner ready, my husband will say, out of the blue:
“Doesn’t Tatyana’s hair look great?” or “Tatyana I LOVE your hair.”
I’ll return the compliment, we’ll catch eyes, grin. My mom won’t say a word. You always know where you stand with this woman.
YOUR PROMPT FOR THE REAL WORLD
What is one personal peeve you can begin to look at with a lighter hand?
Is there something someone in your life says or does that drives you round the bend?
Make it something that happens frequently enough so you can put this prompt into play.
Now, try to see it as a funny bit on a TV show, in a movie, or as a sketch. Look at the situation with curiosity, and consider a neutral narrator.
Play with it, and here’s the trick: don’t try to resist or stop whatever fuming/resentful/sulky emotion you’re experiencing. It’s OK. At BH, all emotions are welcome because we’re expanding our capacity to be with life and living.
Along with the shitty feelings, consider what else is possible about the Situation That Peeves You.
Is there someone you’ve been able to lighten up with, even laugh at? If so, how did you get there? Tell us 👇🏼
This is what we call increasing capacity here at Beauty Hunter. There are so many ways we can increase our capacity to be with All the Things.
