Thursday, April 5, 2012
So some of you who are reading this are people who see me somewhat regularly, perhaps daily. Let me be clear. I don't want any comments about how "great" I look, or how cute my hair cut it. I am not fishing for compliments. I am growing it out. Contrary to how it appears. I've gone to the same hairdresser for over 10 years, and recently switched. After today's cut, it appears that this new one and I are not exactly on the same wave length. No pun intended. I clearly stated, "I don't want to lose length. I want the back short and the front to remain the same." As I watched him cut away like Edward Scissorhands going to town on a bush, and stared at the pile of hair on my lap, I knew something was going terribly wrong. Yet I was secretly hoping that he would comp this one since it was somewhat uneven from the last cut he gave me and I felt like I couldn't complain. Who I am to judge the professional? So I allowed it, praying that his vision for me was more than mine. Sadly, it was less, and I have the loss of hair to show for it. He even showed me pictures, and they were exactly what I had in mind. Either he needs new glasses or I do because it seems we were not looking at the same thing. And now, every time my computer goes to sleep and I catch a glimpse of myself in the blank screen, I repeat my mantra: it will grow out. In a year or so. Maybe more. I almost took a pair of scissors to my hair myself this evening, something I've done before on several occasions. Sometimes it works out. And of course, every woman I see now on tv or in magazines, has long, flowing hair. Rub it in. Throw vinegar on my wound. But realistically, there isn't anything I can do, short of taking an extra dose of prenatal vitamins (no not for any other reason than I want my hair to grow faster!), to undo it. Hair extensions? Hanna would be thrilled. Every time we pass Hair City, she asks if she can change her hair. I've considered it, along with the option of going back to my Winona Ryder (not sure if it was pre or post shoplifting days) haircut. Probably not my finest moment. I love shoes, and and free returns are a great thing. You buy a pair, try them on for a bit and if it doesn't work out, send them back. No such luck with haircuts. Sure, there are iPhone apps that can show you what you'd look like with different hairdos, but I always know what I want and how it will look on me theoretically. The problem, well, truth be told, there are several problems. My hair, shocking news to most people, is not straight. It's curly; not the cute curls that bounce and spring like my sister's (another shocker- her's isn't straight either!) but unruly and messy curls that may only be fitting for someone emerging from a windstorm. Or waking up from bed after a night of tossing and turning. Either way, it isn't a look that is stylish to sport. I've been fighting it for a long time. I go through phases of embracing the mess and then revert back to my flat iron wondering who saw me and whether or not they thought I was insane. OK, so I'll admit it. I am vain. But not in a bad way. I don't like attention, I don't like people looking at me or saying things, and a messy do will certainly draw more attention and comments from people who feel like they should comment because it's the polite thing to do. I normally just smile, say thanks, and think in my head,"I know what you're doing. I'd have done the same thing." So modeling my hair after the picture of the girl who has naturally straight hair is a disaster to begin with. I told my hair dresser this evening that I didn't want to be that "high maintenance client" and he said that it wasn't my fault. That I had the most "high maintenance" hair of his clients because I refuse to let me hair be the way it should. Touche. I laughed but knew it wasn't really funny. It was true. The grass is always greener on the other side, and I've had my eye on the other side for some time. People with straight hair complain about it being flat and dull. Puh-lease. We love your hair. The fact that you roll out of bed and it's the same as the way it was when you went to bed. Just brush it upside down and you'll be fine. Curls on the other hand frizz in summer humidity and frizz when it's wet and snowy in the winter. We can't win either way. Thank goodness for the advancement in hair products, which I should note that I don't use. I always feel like it makes me break out, which is probably psychological. It's probably from the worry that the product will cause a break out. At least concealer and time get rid of that. Other problems have been tougher to remedy. I tried to relax my hair once with a product made for African Americans. It was supposed to turn from light pink to white (or the other way around?) as you work up the lather and you rinse it off when it changes color. I just couldn't see the change in color. It fried my hair and I spent three hours under a heater with conditioner in my hair and probably the entire salon laughing at me as I sat there, head heating, wondering what on earth I was thinking. There was also the time I tried to bleach my hair sitting next to the radiator and it turned my hair carrot orange. I went to school with black hair the next day since it was the only thing my mom had on hand at 11 pm. No 24- hour Walgreens in Chile. So there have been plenty of hair mishaps on my end and somehow, I doubt it's over. I continue on the quest for the perfect hair style. The perfect cut. I am certain that this isn't it and will anxiously await the days when a rubber band and some bobby pins will mask it. I've got awhile to go. Green grass looks oh so good right about now!
Posted by Shernina Nichols at 8:44 PM