The Glass Bangle

Being a Woman

From Madonna to Medusa – A Tressful Tale

(To all my family and friends who are rolling around laughing at the image of me as a Madonna, I admit that it is the mother of all exaggerations when that word is applied to me. My only defence is that I didn’t get anything else to rhyme with Medusa 🙂  And the Glass Bangle is ready to wind itself round my neck and strangle me for not giving it any fresh fodder. I have been neglecting this poor blog for some time and now it’s time to redress that grievance.)

My hair has been the target of much experimentation on my part and it has behaved admirably for one that has been subjected to all kinds of torture. In fact I remember the time in college when my closest friend offered to cut it short for me and I happily agreed, in spite of said friend not having cut anything in her life. I directed her to trim an inch of hair and I had visions of my hair swinging across my shoulders like a smooth silken waterfall. However she went slightly overboard in her enthusiasm, and as a result I ended up looking like a cross between a newly shorn lamb and an escaped convict.

That’s a memory which still has me waking up in a cold sweat ! So coming to the latest adventure with my tresses, the only good part is, this time I was not at fault. I have been remarkably restrained in any venture involving my hair and as a result the poor thing was lulled into a state of complacency. I have been noticing silver strands weaving through the black, and there was even one particularly annoying one which sprouted right in the middle of my head. The offending strand had a strange tendency to stand straight up as if it was an energetic Can-Can dancer, bobbing up and down for good measure. I ignored it at first, but one fine day I realized that there was practically a whole team of them prancing around. And to add to my distress, once when I happened to look in a mirror, I saw an elderly lady looking at me. I smiled politely for a moment before realizing that it was my reflection ! I had to eat a dozen chocolates to recover from this shock.

So I decided to begin Operation HairColour. Tons of friends were already engaged in this activity and I took encouragement from how beautiful their tresses looked. Without much delay I trotted off to a beauty salon and set about explaining how it was my first time and hence my reason for coming to that parlour. I was quaking slightly thinking of the cost which was considerable more than the other places around. But I consoled myself thinking of the beautiful-me waiting to emerge from behind all the silver strands.

I was whisked away by two efficient looking youngsters and placed on a chair, where they proceeded to truss up my hair in aluminium foil. After some time they completed the process and trundled off telling me to relax. I sank back into the chair weaving wonderful dreams of sashaying into my house with the afore-mentioned silky waterfall for company. I must have dozed off because I was gently shaken awake and after various operations involving hair, water and blow dryers my hair was declared coloured. It indeed looked lovely and I must say that a lot of sashaying and preening in front of any available mirrored surface happened that day.

Two days later, I washed my hair at home. It was ok in the beginning, but as my hair started drying, it seemed to take on a life of its own. I was reminded of levitating sadhus due to the tendency shown by the strands to slowly rise. Since I was reading an extremely interesting book, I didn’t pay too much attention. After some time I got up to get myself a cup of coffee and as had become my habit glanced expectantly at the mirror. But this time I froze in shock and my heart almost levitated out of my mouth. It looked like I had stuck my fingers into an extremely high-voltage electric socket ! My beautiful silky waterfall had transformed into Medusa’s snakes. To call them frizzy would be an understatement. The texture too had changed to that of an extremely coarse coir mat. I walked around like a shell-shocked victim for the next couple of days. I kept my hair tied up at all times until I started getting a headache. I tried all sorts of remedies but I was destined to carry on Medusa’s legacy for some more time.

It has been nearly 6 months after that fiasco, and after a shower I still look like Medusa. But I have learnt to ruthlessly discipline my tresses with copious amounts of serum and oil and anything else I can lay my hands on. It is a continuous battle between us and the winning ratio is evenly balanced as of now. I live in the hope that my hair will grow back to its earlier state and I shall once more sashay.

Advertisements

22 comments on “From Madonna to Medusa – A Tressful Tale

  1. Varnam Gump
    March 14, 2016

    I don’t know how I missed this post. Reading at work and laughing too. My colleagues seriously think I am a nut case – not that they had a better impression before 🙂 I have bucket loads of silver on my head, enough to convert into cash. Hair color had been a savior and a necessity. And to imagine that I thought that silver hair looked glamorous when I had a headfull of lovely black one. Looks like God listened too much to my wishes. can’t complain.

    BTW: Are you planning to visit Bangalore? If you do pls let me know. We should meet and will have to talk about what else – Erma 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • The Glass Bangle
      March 18, 2016

      I’ll definitely get in touch if I happen to come to B’lore. A warning in advance- don’t make me laugh too much. My guffaw can make grown men quake 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      • Varnam Gump
        March 18, 2016

        Don’t worry. We will meet without them in attendance. Btw : where are you located. my guess is Thiruvananthapuram.

        Like

      • The Greedy Reader
        March 18, 2016

        I’m in Kochi 🙂

        Like

  2. Pingback: 3 Days, 3 Quotes Challenge: Day 2, Failure – Creative Writing For Me

  3. Susanna J. Sturgis
    February 17, 2016

    Welcome back! I could tell a few stories about my love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with my hair. It was curly-frizzy-unruly when I desperately wanted to have long straight hair like everybody else. I made my peace with it eventually, mainly by letting it do what it wanted. As long as I visit my hairdresser every six or eight weeks, it looks pretty good.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The Glass Bangle
      February 21, 2016

      Susanna, its always a pleasure to see you here. And each time I type out a reply I start humming the song Susanna 🙂
      I had a very good relationship with my hair until I added chemicals to the equation. Hair became quite upset and now behaves like a particularly temperamental teenager !

      Like

  4. iamabloggertoo
    February 16, 2016

    A nicely described experience of your hairy adventures ! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Maniparna Sengupta Majumder
    February 11, 2016

    Hahaha…. 😀 😀 Please excuse me for laughing in this way on such a sad tressful tale, but I just couldn’t help it… “heart almost levitated out of my mouth”…. 😀

    On a serious note, I colour my hair with L’oreal, it’s a good one and suits me. You can try it if you wish. Also a hair spa definitely helps… 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  6. dreamzandclouds
    February 11, 2016

    you are having some real dis-tressful times 😛 I hope things will be normal soon 🙂
    I am one person who hardly dares to do anything with my hair, being curly they have a mind of their own and so, I leave them alone so that we both can live in peace 😛

    Liked by 1 person

  7. malvikajaswal
    February 10, 2016

    Oh My God! No wonder you were ignoring your blog- you had other things on your mind (literally it seems). It is a great post and anyone with hair still on their heads will sympathise with you. My eternal fear is that I may have inherited the hair from my mum’s side of the family who are effectively becoming bald at 50 – the women that is, the men have great hair. So, as I watch my mum and her cousins try different hairstyles in an effort to cover-up, I tend to assess every stray strand that I find on my comb with trepidation. It is at times like this, I wish I were a rock star – I would have shaved my head and told the world to—–. 🙂 Stupid conventional upbringing!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • The Glass Bangle
      February 11, 2016

      Malvika, I’ve been catching sight of a couple of your reviews which sound delicious especially the Jack Reacher one and the one featuring Helen Simonsson’s latest book. Her Major Pettigrew is one of my favourite books. Will be heading there soon 🙂
      I too can totally empathise with your sTressful tales ! My husband has salt and pepper hair and it looks good on him. Silver strands (Grey hair sounds so depressing !) makes me look a bit like Baba Yaga 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  8. Archie
    February 10, 2016

    I have subjected my hair to a hell lot of torture too… But my mantra is to regularly get a hair spa done and take care. Besides, I am very particular about my hairdresser. 😊😊

    Happy hair days to you dear! 😊😊

    Liked by 1 person

    • The Glass Bangle
      February 11, 2016

      Archie, thanx for that. I’ve started on the path of hair spas. So hope I can return with a tale of Terrific Tresses’ 🙂

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Information

This entry was posted on February 10, 2016 by in Hair, Humour, life, women, Words and tagged , , , , , , , , .
%d bloggers like this: