Set for Life
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

It was my grandmother’s hair that fascinated me. She was one of those women who always believed in keeping her hair looking great, even when it turned completely white. I remember as a boy wondering why women kept all their hair where men lost most of theirs – sometimes all of it. It seemed so sad to have been born a boy and to be condemned to a future without beautiful hair.

My mother never really cared about her hair. It was nice enough, but not like my grandmother. She always believed in setting her hair. Sometimes she would use night rollers, but she always said that nothing could beat a salon set, and I could see why.

“Touch it if you like,” she would say, and I would. So soft and yet so perfectly in place, with curls that would jump back into position like magic. She sometimes used a spray to hold everything in place, or even a little lacquer for extra shine.

I mean, I like to watch long shiny hair shimmering with a flick of the head, or long soft curls moving like a crashing surf when pulled up and dropped. I mean all hair can be beautiful, but a good set was what set me off.

“If you were a girl, you could have your hair done like this,” Grandma said to me once. “But you are not a girl so I suppose you will just have to watch.

I used to say that I was happy to watch. I used to tell Grandma that when I got married it would be to a girl that had the most beautiful hair. But somehow just looking never seemed like enough. I wanted to experience having beautiful hair.

When I went to college I grew my hair long. I suppose a lot of guys do. In school you wear your hair as your peers and parents expect you to. You fit in. After you are finished with that, there is the chance to express yourself.

It is one thing to have longer hair but for a guy to have long beautiful hair is something else. People think it is kind of weird. They are happy for guys to have long unkempt hair, or an oiled queue, or even a man bun if it is a messy bun, but clean, shiny hair is “girly hair”.

I went to see grandma in the break and she said that my hair was beautiful. She said that I should be proud of my efforts to keep it looking so clean and healthy. Her hair looked great and I told her so. It was her classic set. I think that she could see the envy in my eyes.

“I could arrange for my hairdresser to set your hair like mine,” she said. “But you have to understand that this look is just so feminine that while you wear a style like this you cannot present as a man. Only a woman would walk out of a salon with hair like this. Perhaps I will need to find you something to wear. Your size is not much bigger than mine, except you are longer in the legs.”

She was right. She was right about everything. But she had presented me with a chance to live a fantasy I had been nursing for years. I had to do it. I just had to. Then once I had tasted that forbidden fruit perhaps the craving would be gone forever.

We went to the salon together. I wore one of her old dresses and some flats I had bought on line, but when we got to the salon she explained everything to the women there.

“My grandson is just experimenting with gender,” she said. “All the young ones seem to be doing it these days. He wants a classic do. Who wouldn’t – right?”

The ladies even offer to give me a facial and apply makeup on the house. I could hardly refuse.

Well, so much for just a taste, when I saw who I had become I suddenly realized that I could never go back to the person I was. In fact, it seemed a crime that somebody as pretty as I was, and with such beautiful hair, should just disappear off the face of the earth.

So, she hasn’t. It is that simple.

My parents are not so happy about it, but Grandma is.

“You are an example to all young women,” she says.

So, this is me now, set for life.

The End
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© Maryanne Peters 2024