The Hair Up There

9:54 am · category: Uncategorized

Last night I combed my hair for the first time in more than a year.

It’s not so street urchin as it sounds. I have curly hair. Generally, I wash it, put some gel in it, and blow dry it with a diffuser. Sometimes I might flip my head over and shoot some hairspray in the general direction of my scalp, but I haven’t committed that to part of my daily routine.

My hair was straight as the proverbial board until I was 22 years old. When I was little, my mama would put my hair in a pony on the top of my head (a la Pebbles) and then put the pony strands into sponge rollers on Saturday night. I slept in said torture devices through the night so I could have nice, soft ringlets for Sunday School. But by the time the sermon rolled around I was back to Marcia Brady hair.

By the time I was in junior high, Big Hair was all the rage. Because my hair was so thick and so resistant to curl, it took two perms and many hours to achieve this look — which would inevitably dissipate in less than a month and leave me with hair that suddenly three inches longer once the perm fell out.

I’ve heard of people going through chemo or some such whose hair color or texture or type or whatever changed. That didn’t happen to me. For whatever reason, I woke up one morning during a trip to Texas a decade ago and said, “Wow. My hair is curly.” And I ran with it, baby. Natural curl means way less time primping and preening with multiple products and tool every day. Plus, I can always use “humidity is causing frizziness” as an excuse for bad hair days. Trust me: people totally buy that, even if it’s 40 degrees with zero moisture outside. There’s complete sympathy for the curly girls. Because, see, people pretend they understand your plight, but really they just pity you. But who cares? You’re excused for being lazy about your hair.

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