Rain and mud don't do much for Baby's overall look!

I’m not good at doing hair. It’s simply a set of skills I don’t possess. Oh, I think I’ve managed well enough over the years, thanks to great haircuts and a slew of product. That’s how hairdressers refer to gel, mousse, spray, and the other magic potions they use to make our hair shiny and gorgeous.

I am in awe of those women who know how to French braid their hair, or sweep their locks into a magnificent twist or some other updo. And anyone with curls goes immediately to the top of my list of big envy.


Looking back over my childhood, I realize that my mother wasn’t that great at doing hair either. Who knew this was  genetic?

Her lack of skill was a bit of a problem given that she had three daughters. She compensated by giving us Dutch bobs when we were little girls. You know the straight bangs, straight hair look? Kind of like someone held a bowl over our head and snipped away.

Actually, we didn’t mind because we didn’t know any better. It was later that the whole lack-of-skill-with-hair issue became big. In addition to having no talent, I am blessed with very fine hair. No body whatsoever. Curls just fell out. My hair really, honestly wants to be straight. Not like Mary of Peter, Paul and Mary straight, but straight.

The low point in my life (related to hair) came when I was in the sixth grade. It’s an important time for girls – coming of age and all that. So for our school pictures, I got a perm. Lord help me! What’s that saying about hindsight being twenty-twenty? I know my mother was trying to help. There was no malice whatsoever in her. But that perm haunts me to this day. Short, tight curls at the top of a skinny body made me look more like a Q-tip than a girl. OHMYGAWD.

Thank goodness I’ve recovered and am well past that particular childhood trauma. Speaking of perms and looking like Q-tips and bad hair days in general, I recently took a few photos some of the horses who also seem to be having, shall we say, hair issues. This simply adds more credence to my axiom: It’s difficult to be magnificent twenty-four/seven.

This is a horse we’ve named Mama. She’s a very good  mother to her yearling. And she has the sweetest disposition. Her facial expressions are priceless. On this particular day, you can see that she was having a bit of a hair problem. Those darned burs!


As you can see from this photo, even the grand old man of the herd, Red, our resident bad-boy mustang has an occasional bad hair day.  Though he believes it just adds to his “street cred.”

And here’s little Baby, who often has something or other going wrong for her. Today it’s that pesky strand of hair that sticks straight out from her forehead. Perhaps she was going for the unicorn look, though she didn’t quite get there!


Leave a comment and tell me about your worst hairdo. That is, if you’re brave enough, and over the trauma!