Tag Archives: Hair

Hair Loss

I have lots of hair. My challenge is not about growing it, but getting rid of it.

I look in the mirror and see this mass of grey on my head. “That’s big hair!” And I’m fine with that. My TV screen suggests some chemical that will reduce the size of my forehead by filling in the upper reaches with new roots. Also available is shiny black or perhaps a rich dark brown. Not for me.

I’ve always had copious hair. I just spent twenty minutes searching for an old photo of me but I can’t find it. (Sigh) When I was 25, my hair was curling up on my shoulders. Bruce then, Bruce now.

That’s what I should do … take a right now photo. See you in a bit.

Yeah, that’s me.

In mid-December, I saw my hair starting to grow every which way. But that was okay. I had an appointment with my stylist for December 30. On December 26, the Province of Ontario locked down. My haircutting options were reduced to the grocery store and the pharmacy. Undeterred, I phoned the hair salon and made an appointment for February 3. “I can last that long.” Sadly, Ontario has extended the lockdown to at least February 11. So … I’m now figuring on sometime in 2022.

This morning I decided against a repeat of 1974. Amazon, the purveyor of all things wise and wonderful, would surely come to my rescue. And they did. I ordered a hair trimmer kit that had lots of 5-star reviews. It’s due to show up on Saturday.

I can read a manual. I can maneuver a trimmer through my golden locks. And I can’t wait to see what I’ll look like. Maybe I’ll start a new trend!

An after-photo will be coming your way.

Day Nineteen: Hanging Loose

I spent a fair bit of the day by myself, lounging near the pool in my Speedo. The teens were at the far end but I pretty much left them alone. They needed to be with their friends.

I like being alone but this was very different from what the last week has given me. No little ones gathering around, although both Ali and Ansou made an appearance. It was basically me and my book – God’s Ecstasy by Beatrice Bruteau. It felt like I was spending time with a friend but the printed page was no substitute for real live human beings.

The kids were chattering away in Flemish. I didn’t know what they were saying but I could tell there was a lot of bugging each other. Every once in awhile the voices would explode in silliness. And lots of cannonball jumps into the pool. I sat back and smiled as I tried to figure out Beatrice’s spiritual ideas.

Ansou came to sit beside me for awhile. He wore Jayla’s yarn bracelet that I gave him on New Year’s Day. I wore the beaded one that Ansou’s brother Ali had given me. Friendship across the many miles that seem to separate our lives. Mostly, Ansou and I just sat. Language-wise, we don’t really understand each other. But there are other ways.

I want to come back to Senegal. I want to learn French so that I can talk to my friends and listen to their wisdom. And then there are my Belgian friends. I sit entranced by the music of their Flemish words but I don’t know what they’re saying. I want to know what they’re saying.

Eva told me yesterday that six months from now, there’d be no way I could participate in a Flemish conversation, even if I studied like crazy between now and then. All I would have accomplished is knowing some words. Hmm. Could she be wrong?

You see, Lydia talked to me a few days ago about me joining Jo, Anya, Curd and her in Italy in July. She thoroughly and smilingly invited me! Oh my God, I belong … and I want to speak Flemish. If you had told me a year ago that I’d be gung ho to learn two new languages, I’d have said “You’re crazy.”

During the day’s quiet adventures, Mareama walked into the room. Her beautiful braids were gone! C’est dommage. How could she cut her gorgeous hair? I asked her that. She looked at me funny.

A few minutes later, one of the women in our family (I can’t remember who) quietly told me “Mareama took her wig off. Most Senegalese women wear wigs.” Oh.

Life here in Africa continues to amaze and delight me. I want to go home … and yet I am home.