This blog is a collection of a young woman's random thoughts, many tangents, and occasional
short stories and novel excerpts. Stay tuned for plenty of bull and brief moments of brilliance.

Friday, July 1, 2011

I Want You to Know I am My Hair!

Me and my hair...a touchy subject as many know by now. It is unbelievably thick, yet straight. Since a young age I've kept it short because it is easier to take care of, style, wash, and live with on a day to day basis. This does not mean, though, that my hair was always as short as it has been in the past couple years.

When I was young, I remember being in Ballet/Jazz classes and having to tie up my hair into a bun; it was just long enough to tie up, but too short to be done smoothly. I would have to bend over a chair so my hair would hang off the edge and my mom (and the teacher sometimes) would have to squeeze my shortish locks into a ponytail holder, which never held long since my hair was so heavy. I remember the headaches I would get with that hair pulled tightly at the back of my scalp to keep from slipping.

When I was in grade school, the crimping craze of the late 90's hit and my sister had a crimping birthday party. You can imagine what the photos of my crimped hair looked like: an electrified lion that just saw a ghost. In my 4th grade school picture, I wanted my mom to curl my hair like some of my friends were for there's. She did, though she warned me it might not turn out like the other girls' thinner hair. She was right; the curls bunched into two giant curls on either side of my head, making me look like a fucking ram.

At the age of eleven, a stylist at my hair salon requested using me in a hair styling piece in a local magazine since its texture intrigued him. "Cool!" I thought, "I'll be famous for my hair!" Unfortunately for me this stylist had no experience with my type of hair and kept cutting...and cutting and cutting. Soon he realized that as you cut thick hair like mine, it expands. I ran out of the place in tears and endured much teasing from classmates. My brother, six at the time, told me I looked like an alien.

By the time I hit high school, I had found a hair style with which I was comfortable and stuck with it for years. At every step of the way though, there was someone telling me to grow it out and how amazing it would look. Nothing irritated me more than being told by people that they knew better. To me, it felt as if the people were saying, "It's not good enough." How dare they?! How dare they try and squander what I worked for years to find, some stability on top?

Now though, my theory is more of "What the hell!" What do I really have to lose? So I'm growing out my crazy ass, strawberry blonde with a tint of brown, thick hair. No, I am not doing it because people have been asking me to for years, or because I think it looked horrible before. I liked and still do like my hair short, but at the age of twenty I think it's time to take a chance. I need a change in my life and I hear the best place to start is externally, with hair and clothing. Clothing is a work in progress (here's to hoping my sorority sisters can help me a bit on that front) and the hair? Longer now than I remember it being for about four years.

My face looks strange right now with my lopsided puffy cheeks from losing the wisdom teeth, but I'm liking the hair so far. Maybe once it gets long enough, I can get it cut/styled a bit to try something really new. I'm excited at the prospect of a change...and I like where it's taking me.

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