Yor crowning glory can evoke sighs of despair and oohs of delight and covetousness depending on its condition.

For most women, their tresses are the cause of great stress as they are convinced that the hair that they are born with is not what they want. Those with curly locks wish for poker straight hair while those with the latter kind long for ringlets or waves. A visit to a salon will substantiate these observations.

And it isn’t just the fairer sex who has this hair issue. Men like to care for their hair and search for hairstyle ideas too. Men, too, are equally obsessed. While they may not find it essential to carry around a compact and lipstick, I am sure many don’t think twice about being armed with a comb.

For some, a source of deep anguish is a receding hairline which somehow seems to be a modern malady. So, many will resort to shaving it all off rather than having to hide bald spots and thinning growth.

Thus, this is something all of us are vain about. For those who take pride in this vanity, the armed forces is obviously not a career choice one should opt for. For some inexplicable reason, in this field less is considered more. So you see cadets shorn of their locks, looking as miserable as they must be feeling.

You see them trying to paint the town red while out on a weekend out pass but their efforts are doomed to failure. They stick out like sore thumbs, ill at ease with their new look. One pays a heavy price for patriotism.

Don’t get me wrong. I have the utmost regard for this career choice, coming as I do from an army background. But that should not blind us to reality.

I remember a friend who sported long hair when this was a fashion statement. He was very proud of his mane until he decided to enlist and found himself practically hairless before he could change his mind.

And then there was a time when the barber came home once a month for my father. Since his hair was already short none of us saw why this was necessary. But he would insist that his hair was growing unruly. As children we loved to watch the operation.

The man would envelop my father in a white sheet from which only his head emerged. Then the “weapons” were brought out while we looked in awe. The barber was also an army man and seemed to be privy to every officer’s secrets.

What is about hairdressers that make them such good confidants? Is it the thought of a sharp object so close to your head that makes you want to come clean? Whatever the reason, secrets spill out as freely as the locks of hair.

By the time it’s over, there is a curious light-headed feeling for more reasons than one. The act lends an air of vulnerability to the person on whom it is inflicted. One enters the exercise convinced that there will be a radical transformation. But, somehow, the end result never seems to live up to expectations.

The new look takes time to grow on you. Sure enough, a week or two later, everything seems to fall into place and the anguish over what appeared to be a precipitate action doesn’t seem such a hare-brained idea after all.

Come on lets talk, its your turn

Tags: Lifestyle //