Wednesday, September 17, 2014

This Hair of Mine

This Hair of Mine... where do I even begin?
I guess I knew from the beginning it was going to be an all or nothing deal. I came out with a marginally good head of hair, lighter, much lighter than anyone else in my family. Which if it pertains to you, the joke about having the Mailman's kid isn't funny. To Anyone.
I was an active kid, and preferred making forts in the woods, raking leaves and arranging rocks to form pathways through our backyard. (for the record I still don't see this as "normal girl" behavior") All that fort making, and tree climbing, took it's toll on these tresses of mine. Every night, every single night I would come in and have to sit through the very painful ordeal of having my Mom comb through my hair to remove the sticks, twigs, and most awfully the burdocks. There we sat for hours undoing what the day had seen and sent into my hair. Sometimes it would seem like hours, sometimes just a few minutes. But each passing minute, would solidify my decision to made a date with the scissors.
It's been cut, and colored. Crimped, combed, braided and bleached. Its been blonde and brown and red. Hues of Cherry Coke, and Pumpkin, and Strawberry. It took me a long time, far too long to realize that my hair was different than the girl's with the fat pony tails in banana clips(aging myself here). It was too many years that my blond-ish silky hair was manipulated and man handled into something that it wasn't, and was never going to be. Keep in mind, I shared a house with a man for over 10 years that had Long hair!! Long hair in the Bad Michael Bolton kind of way! Even today, when I see a man with long hair I am immediately disgusted. Every time I got a hair cut he told me I looked like a 13 year old boy. Evidently, I didn't respect his opinion, so I cut it even more!
And of course, the do- it- yourselfer in me, took matters into my own hands. I started box coloring my hair in about 11th grade. Yes, 16 and I thought this was something I could master in Joan & Fred's blue bathroom sink. Ohh,, the towels I ruined...I still went for some regular haircuts, but continued to color on my own, sometimes outside the lines. Somehow, I always had the forethought that, I needed to maintain somewhat of a respectable hair color, in order to stay employed. And working was what I wanted to do. What wasn't working was the application process. I was applying the color and no additional product or toner, or changing my shampoo. What resulted was the yellow ring at the top of my head that resembled in what I like to call the "Dog Urine Halo" effect. You can see this in full regalia at any a local County Fair.
Even as an adult, it's taken me more time to find the right partner in crime for this hair of mine. I made the grave mistake of going to a younger gal in the last few years. She was just getting started and had her hair dryer at a shop that resembled something right out of Steel Magnolia's (dating myself again) Every time she would start doing my hair, she would have to ask for directions from another stylist. Soon enough my scalp was burning and she was telling me "Beauty is Pain!!". Did I mention I shit- canned That place? Ohh,, and Yes, she's Still doing hair!
But I have found my Female. I have found The One. I have found the magic worker that makes this hair better than anyone's hair in a banana clip! She has made it long and chopped it short. I know I am Always in the best of hands in her chair. If I could only tell every 16 year old girl and everyone with the "Urine Halo" about her I would! She has talents Beyond anything I could have ever hoped for this hair. Best part is, she's also one of the coolest people I know.
Just 1 evening before this last photo was taken, I got one of my favorite do's of all time done.
So this hair of mine? Its here to stay. Just the right amount of, "I could just have come from backstage", I "could have just wolk up" or "I could  have just walked a runway". Shouldn't everyone have hair like That?!

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