Nostalgic for My "Nun Buzz"

I'm not one to fuss overmuch about my appearance. Having been a cloistered religious, even for a short time, has helped curb the old vanity that once governed how I perceive my physical self and how I hoped others would perceive me. Consequently, I no longer wear make-up, and the only concern I have about my hair is that it be the right length.

When I left the monastery I of course shed the close-fitting cap and long veil that concealed my hair. Stepping out from the cloister walls wearing the jeans and sweater of old, I was a bit conscious of the inch-long "nun buzz" that was now exposed to the world and the elements. I felt like a shorn sheep in midwinter. I loved, however, the no-maintenance aspect of my crop; like Jo March, I felt liberated by it, loved that all it needed was a wash-&-air-dry, not even a comb, just a finger-fluff now and then.

The first hint of disenchantment came one day when I approached a checker at WalMart, who, just barely glancing in my direction, greeted me with, "Find everything you need, sir?" After my initial chagrin (and hers, as well), I realized her gaffe was somewhat justified. In my plaid shirt and jeans, and with my nun buzz, I might indeed have been mistaken for a man if one were not looking directly at me. So I let the sting pass -- till a couple of years later.

While in flight one morning to Seattle, I heard the rattle of the drinks cart behind me, and a cheery voice saying, "Something to drink, sir?" I turned around to find that the flight attendant was addressing me. The expression on his face, upon seeing my own obviously feminine one, clearly registered his embarrassment and was more than enough apology for me. However, having the identical incident (with a different flight attendant) occur on my return flight proved one "sir" too many! That was it -- being mistaken for a man three times spelled out in big letters, "GROW OUT YOUR HAIR."

Grown it out, I have indeed, but only as much as is needed to leave absolutely no doubt about my gender, whether I'm viewed from behind or from the corner of someone's eye. My brief bob requires a bit more day-to-day maintenance, however, and I do miss the utter freedom of the old nun buzz.