So just like every other woman, I have boxes of hair products: heat protectant, curlers, hot curlers, curling irons, flatirons, moisturizers that you leave in or take out after 20 minutes, smoothers, anti-frizzers, detanglers, conditioners, hair masks (which my hair needs… It’s called weave)– everything a girl possibly needs to have beautiful, luxurious, silky, flowing-in-the-wind hair. And on any given day, what is my hair doing? Resting comfortably, tightly in a ponytail. I want to be one of those woman who only wears a ponytail to the gym, or the beach, or on that rare occasion when they are going for that ballerina with a tight bun look. A good hair day for me is most often the same day I left the beauty salon or when I’m on top of my game enough to go the extra step of slicking my hair down with water and a stiff brush.
Because my desperation has grown and I’ve been working harder at looking “put together,” these slick hair days have also grown. Translation: My hair has started growing in one direction. Oh no, sorry, the back of my hair does not lay flat against my neck anymore… It is convinced its place is up in the ponytail. I just want to be a girl who wears her hair down not only driving in my car with the windows down on the way to the beach, at home or for a special occasion. For a brief moment last week–due solely to sheer exasperation– I even considered cutting it all off again; anyone who knows me should be gasping right now. Let’s just say that the first month after the big chop was the honeymoon phase, then things got ugly.
Sidenote: never get married.