Day 6 - what would you change about yourself?
I figured I needed a light-hearted post since we've been real deep and raw the past few posts. What would I change about myself?
Undoubtedly my hair.
Read on for a somewhat humorous commentary on:
Curling iron wounds
Pyramid dos
Growth at the rate of a sloth
Stealing stylist scissors
Guacamole conditioner
And professional fly-aways
When I was first starting out with being responsible for my mane, I think I remember mom getting on me to brush it. I had bangs then, so she routinely curled them for me so they weren't outlandish, Puck-like horns spiraling from my forehead. These were NOT like the beautiful spiral curls that characterize some ethnic hair (although I've seen a few gorgeous white girls sporting them too), they were just every-which-way, do-your-thang, kind of pseudo-curls. Anyway, the point is, there were more than a few times that my ears or forehead got the wrong end of the curling iron by accident, which made me "iron-shy" and even less excited to have anything to do with my mop.
What happens when you have the combo of thick, textured, pseudo-curly hair and a bad cut? Let's just say the Great Pyramid had nothing on me in 2003. EMbarrassing.
I was thinking about cutting my hair the other day because, fortunately, I've found a few styles that generally work for me and don't make me look like an Egyptian landmark, but then I remembered one of my other challenges: my hair grows like a herd of snails traveling through peanut butter. I figure if I cut my hair for summer to my desired length for one of my "cute cuts," it'll probably take me approximately three years to get back to where I am now (which is style-able, braid-able, straighten-able, all the good -ables) - *cue deep sighs*
If it didn't grow so slowly, I probably would change up my hair seasonally, but as it is, I have to debate between the dangers of wearing my hair in a pony or clips (breakage) or the inevitable heat damage that would result from having a style I have to straighten or blow dry nearly every day. Not to mention, who really has time to style their hair every day when they work and are a mom?? My stylist routinely comments with surprise on how long it takes them to blow out my hair to some acceptable standard and I want to say, "Yep! Why did you think I almost went postal on you when you talked about taking another [insert length here] off? That much more and I wouldn't be able to put it up, meaning I'd be stuck with a 40+ minute routine anytime I have to shower." I usually spare them the gory details and just threaten to steal their scissors if they go anywhere near my shoulders.
I do remember getting a book from the library at some point during my teen years when I was absolutely determined to learn how to care for - and hopefully tame - this crazy hair. That resulted in mixing exactly two tablespoons of conditioner with a pureed half of an avocado (except I didn't know where our food processor was and the avocado wasn't soft-ripe, so it ended up being more mashed than pureed) and putting it in my hair for half an hour. I've never had softer tresses, but the trauma of trying to get avocado chunks out of my hair was enough that I've only ever done it once since then.
The fly-aways, or "baby hairs", are the real winners (losers?) of my hair debacle though. It seems like no matter what I do (I ditched pony holders years ago to try to rid myself of these pesky blighters), I always have a flock of fly-aways ready and willing to ruin any good hair day. I'm probably the reason there's travel size hairspray even though it's illegal to take on planes. And don't even get me started on how I feel about the ramifications of actually using hairspray.
Upon reflection I think the answer is obvious, I can either shave my head and go for wigs (styling the back before putting it on for the win!) or convert to a religion that requires a headcovering....
I figured I needed a light-hearted post since we've been real deep and raw the past few posts. What would I change about myself?
Undoubtedly my hair.
Read on for a somewhat humorous commentary on:
Curling iron wounds
Pyramid dos
Growth at the rate of a sloth
Stealing stylist scissors
Guacamole conditioner
And professional fly-aways
When I was first starting out with being responsible for my mane, I think I remember mom getting on me to brush it. I had bangs then, so she routinely curled them for me so they weren't outlandish, Puck-like horns spiraling from my forehead. These were NOT like the beautiful spiral curls that characterize some ethnic hair (although I've seen a few gorgeous white girls sporting them too), they were just every-which-way, do-your-thang, kind of pseudo-curls. Anyway, the point is, there were more than a few times that my ears or forehead got the wrong end of the curling iron by accident, which made me "iron-shy" and even less excited to have anything to do with my mop.
What happens when you have the combo of thick, textured, pseudo-curly hair and a bad cut? Let's just say the Great Pyramid had nothing on me in 2003. EMbarrassing.
I was thinking about cutting my hair the other day because, fortunately, I've found a few styles that generally work for me and don't make me look like an Egyptian landmark, but then I remembered one of my other challenges: my hair grows like a herd of snails traveling through peanut butter. I figure if I cut my hair for summer to my desired length for one of my "cute cuts," it'll probably take me approximately three years to get back to where I am now (which is style-able, braid-able, straighten-able, all the good -ables) - *cue deep sighs*
If it didn't grow so slowly, I probably would change up my hair seasonally, but as it is, I have to debate between the dangers of wearing my hair in a pony or clips (breakage) or the inevitable heat damage that would result from having a style I have to straighten or blow dry nearly every day. Not to mention, who really has time to style their hair every day when they work and are a mom?? My stylist routinely comments with surprise on how long it takes them to blow out my hair to some acceptable standard and I want to say, "Yep! Why did you think I almost went postal on you when you talked about taking another [insert length here] off? That much more and I wouldn't be able to put it up, meaning I'd be stuck with a 40+ minute routine anytime I have to shower." I usually spare them the gory details and just threaten to steal their scissors if they go anywhere near my shoulders.
I do remember getting a book from the library at some point during my teen years when I was absolutely determined to learn how to care for - and hopefully tame - this crazy hair. That resulted in mixing exactly two tablespoons of conditioner with a pureed half of an avocado (except I didn't know where our food processor was and the avocado wasn't soft-ripe, so it ended up being more mashed than pureed) and putting it in my hair for half an hour. I've never had softer tresses, but the trauma of trying to get avocado chunks out of my hair was enough that I've only ever done it once since then.
The fly-aways, or "baby hairs", are the real winners (losers?) of my hair debacle though. It seems like no matter what I do (I ditched pony holders years ago to try to rid myself of these pesky blighters), I always have a flock of fly-aways ready and willing to ruin any good hair day. I'm probably the reason there's travel size hairspray even though it's illegal to take on planes. And don't even get me started on how I feel about the ramifications of actually using hairspray.
Upon reflection I think the answer is obvious, I can either shave my head and go for wigs (styling the back before putting it on for the win!) or convert to a religion that requires a headcovering....
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