THIS IS MY first column of the year 2011. Time for yet another thorough life assessment. You’ve probably done yours already, so bear with me. Every year probing personal development questions must be asked and honest answers given.
Here's a sample: What progress am I making in that great odyssey towards being the best version of myself that I can possibly be? Is enlightenment any closer? Have I stopped self-sabotaging? Have I managed to cut down from three episodes of Fair Citya week to one? For that matter, have I weaned myself off Fade Street? Do I only eat food approved of by Gwyneth Paltrow? Have I got a capsule wardrobe? Is my novel written/half written/do I even have any original ideas? Am I still comparing myself to everyone else, and coming up short most every time? Do I get up an hour before my children rise to meditate? Am I, à la Gandhi, being the change I wish to see in the world?
You can see where this is going. It’s not looking terribly good. But there has been some small progress to which I cling. The question, “have I sorted out my wayward hair?” can finally be answered with a shiny, mane tossing, “hell yes!”
At one point I came within a whisker of getting it all chopped off, because my hair – long, thick, with a propensity to become matted – had gradually become a visual cue for all that was wrong in my world. It didn’t matter what I did. I let it dry naturally and it turned into a Brillo Pad. I used the hairdryer and it transformed into a inferior brand of Brillo Pad. Then, as so many millions around the world will understand, Twitter came to my rescue.
I am a recent convert. I stayed away for ages fearing that I would never be off the computer if I joined. But then I joined and discovered that I could go whole minutes, sometimes hours without looking at Twitter and far from being a timewaster it was useful for work, introduced me to interesting people and most importantly improved the condition of my hair.
Credit where it is due. India Knight is a columnist and author who, when she tweets in London, several thousand women flap their handbags on the other side of the world. Or something. One happy day she tweeted about a product that had changed her hair life. Her. Hair. Life. That probably sounds strange to those of you with hair that wakes up in the morning and says, “yes, just wash me, run a brush through me, let me dry naturally, I won’t let you down.” The rest of us, with hair that wakes up and says “hahahahahahahahah wait until you see how frizzed, tangled and generally uncared for I can look today”, will understand the irresistible lure of a reputed life-changing hair product.
This is the power of Twitter. You could show me 10 television ads for products purporting to change my hair life and I would scoff at every one. @indiaknight tells me X hair product changed her life and I run down to my nearest Argos branch and give them €62 in exchange for the holy grail of hair products. I have faith in her word. I know it will work. There is no doubt whatever in my mind.
At home, I pull it out of the box and begin the transformation. The product is half hair dryer, half big brush. The genius is that at the push of a button the brush rotates, smoothing and polishing once frizzy hair. I do a little victory dance when I look in the mirror and see that it is working. By the time I’ve finished, 20 minutes later, I look like I’ve just had a blow-dry in my old hairdresser, which I had to stop frequenting on account of my personal austerity measures.
Within weeks, the Hair Life Changer has paid for itself, saving me a fortune in blow-drys. I tweet about it, obviously. I have none of the influence of Knight, but the way I look at it if I can save the hair life of even one other person, then it will have been worth it. It is the least I can do.
In terms of a mood enhancer, having nice hair every day has proved more powerful than chocolate. I feel like my mop is somehow symbolic of everything else. That having got my hair under control, much more is possible. And even if my clothes are shambolic and my soul feels heavy some days, my hair can still be silky and bouncy and loveable and representative of the real me.
Hair: today. Everything else: tomorrow.
THIS WEEKEND: Róisín is going to finish making her Christmas presents. It’s a long story, but the slight delay involves the national shortage of sugru.com that hit during the Big Freeze. They will probably be ready for next Christmas. Sorry family.
