Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I’m not one of those people who stick to the same hairstyle year after year. Instead, I change once every two or three months. Since this time last November, I’ve had long hair, straight hair, permed hair, colored hair, shoulder length hair, a bob, and now – what I can only describe as a white girl’s Hallie Berry. Or maybe a shorn poodle.

When my hair was long, it took hours to dry. And then I needed to curl it or put it up on a bun. Not that a bun is such a horrible thing, but it does beg the question, “Why grow your hair long in the first place?” I never could answer that question satisfactorily. Now, I’ve gone from high maintenance to no maintenance, as in wash and go. So far I’m loving it.

The only problem is that I never look like the photo you took of me the last time we were together. Case in point: Yesterday, I was pawing – isn’t that what poodles do? – through a couple boxes of old photographs and was struck with how many different hairstyles I’ve had, not just in the past twelve months but in general. It was the same person regardless of the hairdo, but it was disconcerting to see how her looks changed so often. If I didn’t know this woman personally, I might think she was twins . . . or triplets.

I’ve always experimented with hair, so maybe my secret passion is to be a hairdresser. But instead of taking classes and renting a chair in a high class salon, I’ve just used myself as a client list.