When their life turns out badly, some people blame their parents, some blame their environment, as for me, I blame my hair. If only I’d been born with professional looking hair I could be the CEO of a Fortune 500 Company right now instead of a starving writer. My hair isn’t curly, it isn’t straight, it’s wavy. Which means it looks like I never comb it.
I’ve spent years trying to “fix” my hair. I’ve tried every kind of hair product. I tried getting a perm which only succeeded in turning my hair into a big afro which was made exponentially worse by the fact that I used henna before the perm so I had a big bright red afro. I looked like Ronald McDonald’s twin sister.
When I couldn’t succeed at turning my hair into a beautiful mane, I usually got mad and chopped it off. You know when one of your friends gets a really cute haircut and everyone gushes over it. Well that’s never happened to me. Whenever I get a haircut people stare at me in disgust and say something like, “I see you cut your hair again. Why don’t you try growing it out.”
Believe me I would love to have long hair. When I was a teenager long hair parted in the middle was the style (Peggy Lipton in Mod Squad, Cher, among others). I’ve tried over the years to grow out my hair but it will only grow as far as my shoulders and then it quits.
My hair is like the African natives in the old jungle movies. The natives are carrying all the heavy equipment for the white hunter as they walk through the jungle. Suddenly they stop and start talking excitedly in their native tongue:
White Hunter: “What is it? Why did you stop? We have to reach Devil Mountain before it gets dark.”
Native: “He say mountain is evil. He say whoever go to mountain will never come back!”
White Hunter: “That’s just a silly superstition and why are you talking like that. You went to Harvard? Besides, I’m paying you, so pick up your provisions and let’s go!”
At this point the natives drop all their cargo and run into the jungle. That’s what my hair is like. It reaches my shoulders and then it quits and runs away.
Hair: “We just wanted you to know that we’re not going past the shoulders it’s not in our contract.”
Me: “Listen you’re on my head and I’ll be the one who decides how long you’re going to grow!”
Hair: “ You’re expecting too much from us. I’m telling you we can’t do it! Who do you think you are, Crystal Gayle?”
I have one thing to be grateful for. The day before it decides to give up, my hair looks fabulous. It must want one final hurrah before calling it quits. It looks shiny, thick, and luxurious. I actually get compliments and I feel great. Then the next morning I wake up and it’s limp, stringy, and lifeless. That’s when I have to rush to the Emergency Room at the Hair Hospital.
“People we have a Code Red! I need a blow dryer, curling iron, mousse, gel, hair spray, and a can of shellac stat!” An hour later, “I have some bad news, your hair has flat lined. We tried everything but we couldn’t save it. We’re going to have to cut – dramatically.”
“Nooooo! Why God why?”
When my sister announced her wedding, she told me she wanted all the bridesmaids to have the same hairdo, a French twist. All the other women had long hair except for me so she told me I had to grow out my hair.
“But you don’t understand. My hair won’t grow!”
“That’s ridiculous everyone’s hair grows.”
“Not mine I have a medical condition called Follicle Interruptus.”
Well she didn’t believe me so I tried to grow out my hair. It got as long as my shoulders and as usual gave up. The morning of the wedding all the female members of the bridal party had to go to a high-end chi chi hair salon where Mr. Pierre himself labored on my hair for two hours. Finally exhausted he announced, “Look everyone I have created the world’s tiniest updo!” This was followed by a round of applause.
I know I’m not alone in my hair issues. Every woman I know has hair envy. If they have straight hair, they want curly hair, If they have curly hair, they want straight hair. It seems like no one is happy with the hair they were born with.
Since I can’t afford a high quality wig or hair extensions, I’m just going to have to accept my hair the way it is.
Remember that old saying, “I complained about not having any shoes until I met a man with no feet?” Well to help me accept my situation I’ve changed it to, “I complained about my hair until I met a woman with no head!”
What are your hair issues?
I’ve spent years trying to “fix” my hair. I’ve tried every kind of hair product. I tried getting a perm which only succeeded in turning my hair into a big afro which was made exponentially worse by the fact that I used henna before the perm so I had a big bright red afro. I looked like Ronald McDonald’s twin sister.
When I couldn’t succeed at turning my hair into a beautiful mane, I usually got mad and chopped it off. You know when one of your friends gets a really cute haircut and everyone gushes over it. Well that’s never happened to me. Whenever I get a haircut people stare at me in disgust and say something like, “I see you cut your hair again. Why don’t you try growing it out.”
Believe me I would love to have long hair. When I was a teenager long hair parted in the middle was the style (Peggy Lipton in Mod Squad, Cher, among others). I’ve tried over the years to grow out my hair but it will only grow as far as my shoulders and then it quits.
My hair is like the African natives in the old jungle movies. The natives are carrying all the heavy equipment for the white hunter as they walk through the jungle. Suddenly they stop and start talking excitedly in their native tongue:
White Hunter: “What is it? Why did you stop? We have to reach Devil Mountain before it gets dark.”
Native: “He say mountain is evil. He say whoever go to mountain will never come back!”
White Hunter: “That’s just a silly superstition and why are you talking like that. You went to Harvard? Besides, I’m paying you, so pick up your provisions and let’s go!”
At this point the natives drop all their cargo and run into the jungle. That’s what my hair is like. It reaches my shoulders and then it quits and runs away.
Hair: “We just wanted you to know that we’re not going past the shoulders it’s not in our contract.”
Me: “Listen you’re on my head and I’ll be the one who decides how long you’re going to grow!”
Hair: “ You’re expecting too much from us. I’m telling you we can’t do it! Who do you think you are, Crystal Gayle?”
I have one thing to be grateful for. The day before it decides to give up, my hair looks fabulous. It must want one final hurrah before calling it quits. It looks shiny, thick, and luxurious. I actually get compliments and I feel great. Then the next morning I wake up and it’s limp, stringy, and lifeless. That’s when I have to rush to the Emergency Room at the Hair Hospital.
“People we have a Code Red! I need a blow dryer, curling iron, mousse, gel, hair spray, and a can of shellac stat!” An hour later, “I have some bad news, your hair has flat lined. We tried everything but we couldn’t save it. We’re going to have to cut – dramatically.”
“Nooooo! Why God why?”
When my sister announced her wedding, she told me she wanted all the bridesmaids to have the same hairdo, a French twist. All the other women had long hair except for me so she told me I had to grow out my hair.
“But you don’t understand. My hair won’t grow!”
“That’s ridiculous everyone’s hair grows.”
“Not mine I have a medical condition called Follicle Interruptus.”
Well she didn’t believe me so I tried to grow out my hair. It got as long as my shoulders and as usual gave up. The morning of the wedding all the female members of the bridal party had to go to a high-end chi chi hair salon where Mr. Pierre himself labored on my hair for two hours. Finally exhausted he announced, “Look everyone I have created the world’s tiniest updo!” This was followed by a round of applause.
I know I’m not alone in my hair issues. Every woman I know has hair envy. If they have straight hair, they want curly hair, If they have curly hair, they want straight hair. It seems like no one is happy with the hair they were born with.
Since I can’t afford a high quality wig or hair extensions, I’m just going to have to accept my hair the way it is.
Remember that old saying, “I complained about not having any shoes until I met a man with no feet?” Well to help me accept my situation I’ve changed it to, “I complained about my hair until I met a woman with no head!”
What are your hair issues?
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