It has always seemed to me that the older one is, the shorter, concomitantly, should one's hair be.  Long hair that hangs around the face tends to have an alluringly lightening effect on the young, while when it is sported by those long in the tooth, it tends to make the face look drawn and peaked. 

In any event, I've always worn my hair drawn back from my face.  My husband, when we were children, used to tell me I looked like a Cocker Spaniel when I sometimes relented and left my hair to float around my face, rather than drawing it back in a pony tail, in a pair of braids, in a top-knot, or whatever.  How I used to envy girls with straight hair. 

They, it always seemed to me, could do anything with their hair.

How the girls with straight hair used to envy me, with my naturally curly, thick head of hair.  There is simply no pleasing anyone, particularly the young, although the condition is not quite confined to the young.

I've also never found that having my hair professionally done was in any way pleasing to my aesthetic vision of myself.  Somehow, hairdressers never got it right.  The solution was to cut my own hair, myself, pair of scissors in one hand, hand mirror in the other, reflecting my profile and my back, in another, larger mirror.  It works for me. 

If I ever have any doubts that I've cut evenly at the back, my husband does a double-check and then proceeds to make corrections if any are needed, and they seldom are.  That's the beauty of having curly hair; it tends to wrap itself on those occasions, hiding any possible errors.

Every now and again, when a few months have passed I begin to get that uncomfortable feeling looking at myself in the mirror, as though it was time I took to the shears again.  And then out come the scissors, the hand mirror and a comb.  I set to, and the result is a sense of satisfaction at having done the job, although it does not necessarily carry over to the next day when my hair is shampooed and I view the results.