There is nothing that causes me as much grief as my hair. We have quite a love/hate relationship, my hair and I. The hate aspect began at age 13. Until then, my hair had treated me pretty well. I had adorable ringlets as a baby, and it straightened out nicely for most of my childhood. It was was a nice golden blond, thick with a nice wave. No complaints from me.
When I was 13, my world was rocked over night. Hormones are a bitch and I pretty much woke up one morning with curly hair–it was dreadful. Nobody in my family had curls and I received no guidance or education in the use of gel and deep conditioner. I suffered for 3 long years until I discovered LA Looks deep hold gel in high school. My hair may have been crunchy and looked soaking wet 24/7, but the frizz was gone. Life was good again.
Soon after, I entered the world of hair color. It began innocently with some “Sun-In” the summer of ’93 and escalated to full highlights when I began college. During those 4 years, it went through phases of being platinum blond (with a lovely tinge of green) black, red, a horrible shade of orange, highlighted, skunky, chunky… pretty much every shade it could be. Around graduation I finally had it right again.
Given that Jeff and I move pretty much every year (no, we aren’t military, we just act like it) I am constantly having to find new hairdressers. My hair is crazy thick and it never reacts the way the hairdresser thinks it will. Getting my hair done is always an all day ordeal, the hairdresser will start out chatty and friendly and then inevitably turn cold and irritable when they realize just how much hair I actually have.
A few months ago, pregnant and hormonal, I decided I’d had enough. I’ve been coloring my hair for well over a decade and I was sick of the time and money it took. I bought a box of Nice and Easy and vowed to make my days just that. With Jeff rolling his eyes (this was hardly the first time I attempted at home color, and it never ended well,) I took the plunge. It was a disaster– uneven, orange… really bad. And the worst part? I now have stubborn greys that didn’t take to the color. Kick me while I’m down, huh?
Two hundred and fifty dollars later, I’m happy to report that I’m back to blond. It’s the way I look best, and I’m happy for the moment. And I will be, that is until I decide to go dark again.
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You missed one memory – when you thought the only way to properly dry your hair was to drive around with the air on. It didn’t matter if it was 20 degrees in December. Or that even with these jaunts and living in Swampscott(a SMALL town) for decades, you could never figure out how to get around.
I just couldn’t find a way to work that in. Thank you. ;)
OK, so what does it look like now? I had stick straight hair with a cowlick right up front, all my life until I got knocked up. After birthday my kids my hair had some curl! Yea! The only person who truly knows how to cut my hair is my sister and she now lives in Germany…Truly traumatic for me I tell you. And yeah, I miss her too.
Kind of a golden blond, shoulder length and curly.
That stinks about your hairdresser, er, sister :)
I hear ya sister! My hair is an entity unto itself. I have, however, come to love it and it now defines me. My daughters here is so much worse! I feel for her.