Grooming… By Whitney Farmer – Un Pop Culture

January 12, 2012 Whitney Farmer 0 Comments

Whitney runs a rock music venue on the beach in L.A.. She has an M.B.A, and still makes math errors.

A brother-in-law recently sent me pictures of my first L.A. boyfriend. We had gone to Denver for a visit, and Buzz and Cyd took us flying over the city. Boys sat in front, girls sat in back because it was before Cyd had learned how to be a co-pilot and my boyfriend wanted to wear the headset so he could look like one. He was in the process of growing a goatee in preparation for a film he was shooting as soon as we got back, and he would play a German villain. Casting agents know that bad guys have facial hair.

In these pictures taken soon after my marriage had evaporated, I looked happy and relaxed when compared to pictures from my former life, even those taken during times when I felt blissfully happy. It was puzzling until I realized that when I moved to L.A., I began to do my eyebrows. Contrary to the devastation that had engulfed me, I looked good. And that’s really what’s important…

My individual soapbox rant that looks aren’t everything hasn’t gained much traction, either during my lifetime or in all the previous lifetimes that have totaled into the history of human civilization.  I live in a land where supply and demand causes toasters to be less expensive than Venus bikini grooming kits, because no one eats carbs but no one has an excuse for not being beach-ready. Perhaps I’m the one that is wrong, perhaps my perception skewed by living in a place where doctors advertise that they will validate parking if you let them cut you for vanity or to sustain conditional love. In medicine, the appearance of a patient is a relevant observation that is noted on charts. If a person stops grooming themselves, this can be a sign of serious underlying conditions such as emergent depression or psychosis, or the evidence of uncontrollable pain.  Grooming behavior, given and received, strengthens social bonds across a vast array of species. The U.S. reconstruction efforts in Germany and Japan following World War II might even be interpreted as a macroeconomic manifestation of this impulse.

And it formed unexpected diplomatic bonds that are present to this day.

Left alone, I would hack at my own hair regularly. I like the feeling of short hair, but pictures of my past have convinced me of my folly. Maybe it’s because I am self-conscious about the shape of my head and the size of my forehead, but my silhouette with a stylish bob reminds me of a mushroom. Looking back to my time in finance, I am shamed by my company headshot ‘Banker’s Helmet’ coif. Every five years, I have to fight against my delusions and listen to my higher Nazarite angels and leave my hair alone. If I succeed against temptation, I will reward myself with cutting my own bangs too short and crooked. Then I feel better.

It’s a healthy sign when gangbangers or skinheads grow out their hair to longer than stubble length, especially if it grows over tattoos that could help imprison them in a former life. It always reminds me of prisoners of war who were able to once again live normal lives. When they were fighting, it made sense to not give an adversary a handle to grab to hold them captive. It’s a question I deal with at the club. The last time I wore my hair down and not pulled into a twist or hidden in a hairpiece, a guy ran his fingers through my hair then wrapped it around his fist before he used it as a handle to pull me face-to-face and say, “Hello.” Once someone has your hair, they control you. All you can do is negotiate.

I am still puzzled by the Nazarite tradition and how it applies to the story of Samson. Perhaps the vulnerability of long hair in battle, like with Gideon, provides a greater opportunity for the Lord to have a victory in unexpected circumstances. Perhaps it is because, like with rings in trees, our hair provides an archive of the lives we lead and what we have experienced. Hair analysis can provide information about what we have eaten, what poisons we have encountered, and what we have experienced. It bears witness. When Samson’s hair was cut through Delilah’s betrayal, perhaps he lost his strength because he had lost his testament. Someone else controlled his story at that moment.

Grooming for fashion and function reaches its highest levels with dogs. The poofs and alien sculptures displayed in purebred shows once had meaning. Pom pom feet help waterdogs in the same way that flippers help a scuba diver with increased swimming power. Absurd poofs like ‘80s bighair on heads and over hips keep vital areas warm and makes sense within the proper context.  But like my shameful archive from my past, I don’t have to like how it looks now.  For example, the stylish butch job that was given to my parents’ little white dogs last week that left their pink chicken skin showing through caused us to swear a solemn oath between us that we will quarantine them for a month until they look cute again.

The balance in healthy grooming rests somewhere between the villain who used to terrorize us at the club – swiping my perfume to use on his beard rather than washing – and the pretty guy who is so clean that your gay-dar sounds Red Alert.  It rests somewhere between sending the message “I don’t care” when in public, and being scared to be seen without make-up. When the woman with the alabaster box filled with perfume broke it over Jesus’ feet and wiped it with her hair, He was grateful and told all those around to leave her alone.  He would walk over 3000 miles in the course of His three year ministry. To be taken care of this way after having traveled so long that day must have refreshed Him and helped Him go on.

Maybe Queen Esther had it right: She asked the royal eunuch for advice. Because of his condition, he had no hidden agenda and probably helped advise her on simple truths. She had been anointed before this time for six months with myrrh, known for having a bitter flavor but which provides healing and strength. Like with a garden, the soil that was her life had had the stones and the weeds removed. She had been plowed under and prepared for the new life that would spring from her and the position of authority that would save her people. This all took time. At the end, all that were needed were the finishing moves, the final touches.

Maybe she chose to cut her own bangs, too short and maybe crooked. That way, she could see what was ahead without tripping.

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Quote of the Blog, from Khalil Gibran: “Forget not that the earth longs to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair…”