I saw a woman with a sleek ponytail today on campus. She had smooth, straight hair that was crisply pulled back into a ponytail. She looked professional.
I'm pretty much over middle school, which is good since it's been 27 years. I can still get jealous of straight-haired ladies with their perfect ponytails.
I can put my hair in a ponytail. I have one today, but it's nothing to be jealous about. My morning ponytail can start out a little bit jaunty and whimsical and cute. But by 11 AM, it has always transformed itself into the hair version of a maxipad with wings. By which I mean, all the stray curls have worked their way out in an unattractive fashion to form head wings. I look like the flying nun with my hair as the veil.
So I get a little jealous of those straight-haired girls who can look professional. I can look professional if I work the right clothes and if bow to all the right hair-product goddesses. But any attempt to look put-together and grown up is always going to be fighting with the sabotage of the hair.
I know I have great hair. It's wild and curly and sexy and kind of fascinating to look at. But it's artsy-fartsy hair. It has always going to be the hair of a preschool teacher, not a high school math teacher. It's folk singer hair, not lawyer hair. It's funny hair, not serious hair.
I like being funny. I like my hair. Today, I got just a little bit jealous of a ponytail.