There's something about the climate here that induces Texans to have big hair. I first started noticing this phenomenon while at church the other day. There are a LOT of people at my church with really big, takes-three-cans-of-Aqua-Net-to-hold-it-in-place hair. And it isn't just the women; there are plenty of men walking around looking like they have some sort of foreign creature perched on their heads!
So I wondered - is big hair their defense against the sun? Is this some sort of example of evolution at work in humans? Because I've noticed that the higher the temperature, the bigger the hair. What sort of protection does this offer? Does extending the hair as straight as possible out from the scalp prevent any sort of body-heat build up there which could cause discomfort? It's possible, as I remember my mom always telling me that people lose most of their body heat in winter from an uncovered head.
Or is the bouffant an attempt to create as much shade as possible for the rest of the body? It doesn't rain here very much, so a lot of the trees here are short and squat. Maybe Texans feel the trees aren't tall enough to provide them enough shade, so they must create their own mobile shade units.
Or perhaps they, like Chicken Little, really do believe the sky is falling. Perhaps the humongous hairstyles are to provide padding in the event a big ol' chunk of sky should fall to the earth and strike an unsuspecting Texan.
You would think, though, that they would reason - the less hair, the less heat. But NO! Down here, hair is a symbol of one's femininity, one's womanness. I cut my hair really short once I got back from Ann's wedding, because it was so darn hot. One of our technicians at work, Pablo, walked in and acted like someone had just shot him when he saw how short I cut my hair. "What?" I asked, a bit defensively. He merely pointed to my head. "Yes, I cut my hair." He just shook his head sadly. Seems he's now half-way convinced I must be, well, I'm sure you can guess. I'm just not a woman anymore in his eyes. LOL
Meanwhile, while I'm as comfortable as I can possibly make myself in this blistering Hell called San Antonio, I find myself confronted everyday, everywhere, with the image of what natives around here think of as "womanhood." Apparently, it looks a lot like Marge Simpson.