Pandemic hair

I’ve got a bad case of pandemic hair. Do you?

I had long, long hair for a few years. Just before the pandemic started, I got it cut off into a cute chin-length shag. And have been absolutely unable to keep it up because I cannot go to the salon.

Oh, yes. And I cut my own bangs. They are not straight. (But my hair is long enough to be held up by a single pencil.)

The salon is open. My favorite place re-opened on August 31. I’m sure they are taking all the precautions they can against the spread of the virus. But I’ve got an autoimmune disorder and just don’t trust that it will be good enough.

It’s not just them. Here’s a list of place I have been since March:

  • My house
  • My yard
  • My best friend’s house
  • To the doctor’s office
  • The cannabis dispensary (once – knowing they take top precautions)
  • In the car

Yep. That’s it. My world has gotten very small. And there are no hair stylists in it. My hair is long again. I know I’m in the same boat as many other people. This is our new normal and we have to adjust to it. But I never thought it would last this long. Today, it feels like I have been living this greatly reduced life for years.

My hair chokes me when I sleep. I have to tie it up in a tight knot on top of my head. Otherwise, it will wake me several times in the night twisting around my throat or stuffing into my mouth. The good news is that the knot on top keeps my CPAP straps in place.

I am trying to learn more up-dos and braids – but those are limited by the amount of time I can stand in front of a mirror with my arms up in the air. The pain that lives in my shoulders hates that position. I find myself taking a lot of breaks, and a lot more time to get anything done. The ugly ponytail becomes the style of choice on most days.


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