It seems to be women’s lot in life to worry. As if it isn’t enough to worry about our loved ones and the important things in life, society wants us to spend much of our time worrying about our bodies, faces and hair.

Admittedly, as you get older you worry a little less simply because much is taken out of your hands. I mean, come on, it’s not easy to fight mother nature when everything starts to expand and drop!

But one thing we can control is how we wear our hair. Although, some of that control is taken away from us by parents when we are young and by nature when we get older.

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I am blessed with thick hair and I know I should be thankful, but all my life all I ever wanted was long hair that would shine and swing as I moved. Not only that, I wanted to be a blonde.

I was born with thick, straight, black hair, which was so profuse that, as a small baby, my mother insisted on me wearing a hat whenever I was taken out in public. From what she said, this thick, black hair would stick straight up in every direction.

“What a beautiful head of hair,” were the words my mother said she heard from those who had the fortune to find me without a hat. But I bet they snickered behind her back, thinking, “Boy, that child’s going to have trouble with that hair all her life.”

They were right.

The color of my hair lightened from jet black to brown, and as I grew, it began to lay down flat so I could venture out sans hat. Until I was old enough to make my own decisions about my hair, my mother kept it cut short, saying long hair would overpower my small face. Eventually the time came when I could control the scissors.

In my teens, just when it had finally grown to the length for which I always yearned, along came the model Twiggy (I lived in England) and with her the popular trend of short, short hair.

Since that time, my story has repeated itself several times. I have always been a day late and a dollar short when it comes to hair styles.

The day I decide to cut it short, everyone in the entire world is sporting long hair. If I get a perm, the trend suddenly becomes straight and sleek. I just can’t win.

For years I have longed for a style of cut which will take little or no care. A style that will enable me to get out of bed at 5 a.m., shake my head and there I am, ready for work.

If I had a dollar for every time I believed a stylist when she told me, “When you wash it, all you have to do is this,” as she competently wielded a brush, blow dryer and curling iron with the mastery of her trade. My mistake is believing her when she tells me that it’s so easy, anyone can do it.

Of course, when I leave the beauty shop I am convinced I can do it — until early the next morning when reality hits and I look in the mirror.

But I think seeing my mother’s face looking back at me is one of the reasons why I struggle so with my hair. Let’s face it, many of the hair styles today are messy on purpose.

When I look in a style book to find something new for myself, all I see are pictures of how I look when I wake up after a bad restless night. Hey, if I could get away with it, I’d have it made.

The problem is, I look at my mother’s face and hear her voice when she says, “Jennie, you can’t go out like that. Do something with your hair, it’s a mess. Maybe you should wear a hat.”

I wonder if it’s too hot to wear a wig?

jennifer e.  may  is Teche Life editor of The Daily Iberian.