By Joe Walker
Don’t get your hopes up. Jeri curls are not going to come back in style. If you’re still wearing one and believe curls will someday be cool again, I have two suggestions: 1) Put away your “Michael Jackson’s Thriller” VHS and 2) Strap yourself to a polygraph machine for a second opinion.
A few days ago I saw a woman sporting a freshly jeri’d curl; I knew it was fresh because I could smell it (If you’ve ever known someone with one you immediately recognize that fragrant new Jeri curl smell). What could have possessed this woman to make such an irrational style choice, curl-juicingly jeopardizing unstained pillowcases, backs of couches, and jacket hoods everywhere? If I had to guess I’d say an urge to change her appearance.
For many people hairstyle change is the easiest appearance alteration. Some people want to feel and look younger so they cut it, others feeling rebellious might let it grow to extreme lengths. Maybe change the color to accentuate ones feeling of maturity or playfulness. Some simply get board and just want to be different, refreshed or stylish for a “new self” feeling.
Nicki, my wife, changes her hair often. Because of this she’s one of those people who looks different in every picture you see of her. Me? I’ll always wear mine Murder 1, shaved smooth. The Montell Williams with noonday shine. But recently I wanted to rugged-up my looks, also noted as the boyish version of my father’s reflection. So I decided to grow a beard for the first time. My whole life people have told me I look just like my father, especially my family members (especially my mother!). Because of how much my father and I resemble complete strangers have identified me! “Whoa,” they say, “I know who your daddy is. You look just like him!” Thanks, weirdo. But once I’d grown my beard I became a different person. I guess several.
My mother told me I looked like late soul legend Isaac Hayes. I don’t sing. My little cousin TJ said I looked like rapper Rick Ross. I don’t show off my gross, hairy belly. One of my co-workers, Seth, told me I “looked like the mean-bearded-guy”; and we’ve all been in a room too close to him before. I don’t want to frighten people. A few others said I looked liked mixed martial arts fighter Kimbo Slice (which is utterly ridiculous given Kimbo is 245 pounds and I’m…not). I’m a writer, not a fighter. And on several occasions I was asked if I was Muslim.
With the beard I was the same me, only momentarily insecure. I thought the facial hair would give me my own look. It’s perfectly normal. People stare at themselves in the mirror everyday and feel momentarily insecure. Think of changing something. “What can I do to look and feel better?” “I wish I was an inch or two taller.” “I wish my lips weren’t so thin.” “I wish my skin was clearer.” “I wish I could afford a makeover.” Again, it’s perfectly normal. Sadly for some this normal is frizzy. Low self-esteem can stick gum in your perm. It’s hard to remove. Some details about ones self simply can’t be combed out. But little things you can change, like your hairstyle, can work wonders. Who doesn’t love that “new self” feeling? I know I do. It gets us through. With the economy in such bad shape and people losing their jobs and homes, many out there could use a “new self” feeling right now! We’re rebelling against this lengthy recession. Pulling our hair out while waiting for a trim. Our whole nation needs a new look, even if it stains our pillowcases. At least we’ll rest easier.
New Resolution #47: If we don’t achieve it, we’ll just have to weave it.
