I’ve got this love/hate thing going on with my hair. Right now I’m not liking it very much. Four years ago I cut it all off. Over-processed, shoulder-length locks were shaved down to the scalp. I was paper-thin at the time as well so I could actually wear the look well. Then along came some excess weight and with my already full face I had this chipmunk look going on. It was not a pretty sight so I let it grow back in.
Then came my natural phase. I actually loved my natural texture and after some product testing found just the right combination of conditioners and moisturizers to capture some incredible curls. Then it got longer, and longer, and someone (my mother) commented that I looked like I had a small, matted animal on top of my head. Until that point I hadn’t seen it. Afterward of course, I nicknamed my new pet Wiglet and prayed that it didn’t actually start to grow a tail.
By this point my natural was completely out of control and I was ready for a change. Which was probably my problem from the get go. I like change and it was time to shake things up a bit. So, what do I do, I dyed it blonde. Between you and me, it was a color that did not work. I didn’t need my mother to tell me that so blond hair lasted all of one week before it was gone. I tested the color spectrum after that. I wasn’t a bad redhead but even that still didn’t move me any! When I wasn’t feeling all warm and fuzzy over the color I went back to my natural shade of mahogany brown and convinced my hairdresser to bring me back to the world of relaxers. So, once again, it’s bone straight, brushing against my shoulders, and the best I can do with it is pull it back into a ponytail and go. The ponytail is fine, I guess, but I have a big head and am still battling the last of my excess poundage. The ponytail just seems to further accentuate the gargantuan head - enormous body look.
So now I’m hating my hair, again, and contemplating taking my scissors to it, again. But if nothing else, love it or hate it, I’m glad that all it is, is hair.