The undeserved distress of being a hairy damsel


I just brushed my teeth and my hair, not with the same brush, of course, with completely different brushes, as you do, before you go to bed.

I had a little mishap. Well, a couple of little mishaps, if I’m honest. First, I placed the capsule inside my inhaler (which I have to take right before brushing my teeth, making it thus a part of this story) and as I put it in my mouth to suck on it, I simultaneously, accidentally twisted it and whacked my tooth. Not my already so-often-bashed-tooth-that-it-is-now-a-somewhat-yellow-tooth, I hasten to add, no, it was a completely, undamaged, sparkly white one. I oohed and I aahed somewhat. OK, that is a downright  lie. I cursed and I blasphemed somewhat. Then I brushed my tingling teeth (pain spreads, you know) and then turned to my other brush. My hairbrush.

Now, I should perhaps mention at this point that I was naked. For reason unknown to any man, child or woman. And that included me. It wasn’t that I was expecting any late night hanky panky or anything. I can assure you of that. Because the man of the house had already hit the sack and was snoring blissfully and boomingly. I was ever so slightly ticked off about that, actually. After all, he’d just sent me, moments before, out into the street to put the bucket out for tomorrow’s bin men. And all I’d been wearing was a towelling robe. I’d thrown open the door and had a slight panic attack for a moment, then embraced the cold air and ran out into the dark night tugging on a dustbin. I’d been nostalgically reminded of those luxurious winter moments at the local sauna; leaving the heated cabin and entering the cold winter air wearing nowt but but a pretty robe. Except that I wasn’t sweating but I was dragging a wheelie bin. And my spa experience had been for free.

I’d returned the short distance from the curb to my home like a cross between a clearly amateur ballet dancer and a scrutinising spy, looking for potential serial killers or an unsuspecting, about-to-become-disturbed neighbour.

So I stood, naked, in front of the mirror, and lifted the brush to address the issue of a great big clumpy knot that had inconveniently appeared in my long, russet hair.  I started to tear the hard, wooden brush down through those mischievous strands.

I brushed firmly downwards and then I felt it.

I’d brushed my nipple.

Now, it wasn’t up there with the torture I had put myself through that day I accidentally whisked my nipple. I am still reeling from that experience. I still shudder every time I pick up an electric whisk with my right hand. I shudder but I soldier on. I like to bake. Mainly because I like to eat cake.

But I do suspect naked hair brushing may have gone out of the window. At least, until I have dramatically cut my hair.

But the whole episode made me think. We, damsels, with very long hair, must go through many disturbing experiences that those with short hair absolutely cannot.

Like:

  • Brushing our nipple(s?)
  • Accidentally ‘dropping it’ on a candle flame and igniting it.
  • Our hairdresser insisting that we need to urgently go to the doctor as we’re losing far, far too much hair and then the doctor doing hair removal tests a.k.a. pulling hair from our heads with their bare hands and then telling us “No, your hair’s just long and looks like a lot in the hairdresser’s sink,  but I have to really pull it to get it out, it doesn’t come out at all easily.” At which point we are mouthing the words, “I know!” and wincing back the tears.
  • Accidentally dropping it in our dinner.
  • Finding dried out egg yolk in it.
  • Accidentally dropping it in someone else’s dinner.
  • Getting it stuck under our partner’s or our own body part, yelping, and then having to make a little pause, alter position and refocus during sex.
  • Having a shower before bed, then getting up in the morning to discover that it’s still wet and it’s -10°C outside! As we drop the kids off at school we can feel little ice crystals forming…
  • Getting bored while using a hairdryer thus wandering off to do something else (which, of course, leads on to the point above).
  • Accidentally getting it stuck under a stranger’s shoulder on the bus and going through that embarrassing moment of explaining to them that that comfy cushion they’re enjoying leaning on, is actually our hair.
  • And then, there’s the classic: having it completely blindfold us on a windy day, causing us a near death experience like walking in front of a car or under a ladder.

But the very best, OK, worst long hair experience I know to date is the one of my own daughter, Joni. As you may have gathered it was all my fault and as soon as I can muster up the strength to talk about it, I will let you know. Every. Single. Detail.

18 thoughts on “The undeserved distress of being a hairy damsel”

  1. This made me😀 sorry.

    I used to have stupidly long hair (now it is shoulder length). I got so sick and tired of trapping it in car doors, my husband rolling onto it in the night, kids hanging of it, getting it caught in zips etc etc *sigh*

    1. Ooh I forgot about the car doors – then pulling your head and wrenching out a tuft of hair. I have often wondered why I am not bald…😉
      I notice you “used to have” – I haven’t been brave enough to cut it yet.

      1. Mine seems to be getting longer!! My hairdresser has had an injury since the beginning of the year so I haven’t even had a trim since then. I am trying to encourage myself to try a new hairdresser!!

  2. I can identify with several of these.🙂 I’m in desperate need of a cut myself – it’s currently waist length so I’m constantly tangled up in it.

    Ever caught your reflection in a shop window and noticed your hair whisking about like tentacles? When they’re arm length that’s a pretty freaky head octopus.

    1. Yes I have!!! My mother used to say that I looked like I’d been “dragged through a bush backwards.”

      I prefered my friend’s analogy though, she said I looked “windswept and interesting looking.” Isn’t that sweet?

  3. Yep, been there, done that – one of the reasons I had my waist length hair cut short many years ago Your mishaps just reminded me again why I did it….loved your post!

  4. I never had *very* long hair, but for most of my youth up to my early thirties it oscillated between mid shoulder length and top of the shoulder length. Then I lived in southern Kansas. To me, a northern gal, it was miserably hot, and having longish hair was like wearing a wooly scarf all the time. So I started wearing it in pony tails and buns for 9 or 10 months out of the year, a look I didn’t really like. Eventually, out of desperation to get cool, and figuring I wasn’t going to like the look in the mirror either in a bun or whacked off, I got brave and had it cut super short. It took a little getting used to, for sure, but at the same time I felt as though I was floating on a cloud, 20 pounds lighter and 20 degrees cooler. Once or twice in the last 8 years or so of having gone short I flirted with growing it out again, thinking having escaped from Kansas I could comfortably sport long tresses, but it never makes it past the top of my shoulder before I can’t stand it anymore. Sure, on the right person long hair looks amazing, but I think short makes me feel free.

    Anyway, sorry about your nipple. And your tooth. I cringed for you when I read that.

    1. I love reading your comments!!! In the heat it’s miserable isn’t it? But during the cold winters here I feel lucky to have a scarf. Occasionally, I think I might be brave enough and cut it but it only ever lasts a few minutes!!!

  5. I so needed to laugh and coming here was the ticket to get me going. You are hilarious some times and it really is because it is so true. I have not had long hair for a long time now but everything you are saying is so true (I think most women with long hair would agree) and so on it goes. I need to visit more often and this year is going to be the year for that and more. I am sorely behind as this is 2015 and I’m commenting on this 2014 post. Do take care.🙂

    1. I need to write more in 2015 too. I look forward to seeing you and reading your lovely comments and I look forward to writing posts. Let’s hope for a hilarious 2015.
      This morning my husband let me have a much needed lie in and got up with the kids for school. I was so grateful and cuddled up to my hot water bottle. I was just dozing back off when I heard a little tap on the door. I thought I must have imagined it (or maybe I hoped I had ;-)) but then I heard it again, louder that time. I squeaked, “Come in!” and then suddenly my ever-growing eight year old stood in the room. She said, “Mummy, I’m sorry to wake you but I want my hair to look special today, so I wanted someone special to do it.”
      What could I say to that?
      I’m not sure if she’s an incredible manipulator or whether she’s the sweetest kid that ever walked the Earth!😀

  6. When I was in high school I worked as a hostess in a restaurant. I had pretty long hair and had tied it back in a pony tail. At some point in the evening I was cleaning one of the tables when my hair must have fallen into the candle and next thing I knew IT WAS ON FIRE! I put it out immediately, but my boss sent me home anyway because I stunk so freaking bad.

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