I've never quite known what to do with my hair. In an ideal world, my scalp would sprout an inky mane that tucks neatly into a chignon and when let down, swirls around my shoulders like a fine mink stole. Instead, I'm left with hair that requires maximum poking and prodding resulting in minimal effect. In terms of hair, I may indeed have been born in a barn as my head is covered in a drift of unruly cowlicks.
On the bright side, my hair is a nice color of brown, it's not falling out and despite the city's best effort, Philadelphia has given me only a sprinkling of wiry, white hairs. But beyond these few positive points, my hair fails to impress. It straddles not exactly straight and not entirely curly, not baby fine but far from thick. In some ways, it's a microcosm of me - moody, stubborn, prone to change, and with a serious mind of its own. I've worn it pixie short (Gus' favorite), down my back (mom's favorite) and everything in between (none of which are my favorite). More-often-than-not, I just give up and give in to the Perpetual Ponytail.
In terms of tools, you name it, I've tried it. Oils, sprays, mousses and gels from the drug store, salon and then some. I admit to an unhealthy addiction to hair spray and brushes. I have an exorbitantly priced hair dryer, fancy flat irons, multiple barreled curling irons and various and sundry clips, ties and claws.
My attempts to concoct something wonderful with my hair have made us late on more than one occasion. These desperate moments end with me throwing my hands up amidst a cloud of hairspray, doing up my makeup and spritzing on a little Chanel No. 5, hoping all this will distract attention from the top of my head, although being a foot shorter than many partygoers doesn't bode well for this bit of wisdom.
And so this morning, when I set out to tame the beast with my usual arsenal in tow, I was pleasantly surprised to find that, after all these years, I actually got it all right. I finally found the right combination of haircut, washing schedule, shampoo, volumizer, liquid gel, hairspray, hairdryer, hairbrushes, hair dryer, curling iron and more hairspray. My hair looked really good and, 15 hours later, it still looks good. It's taken me a good many years, but I think I've finally, miraculously, figured out what to do with my hair!
Unfortunately, in my excitement over my fabulous hair, I forgot to put on deodorant before I left for work. Oh well, can't having everything, right?
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Woo hoo for finding a working hairstyle! I suffer from unruly hair too and it's such a thrill to have a day where everything falls into place!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comment on my blog. Yes, severing a relationship with a parent is very difficultl. A good friend of mine once said to me (she's one that has a strained relationship with her dad, but still in contact) that just because someone is geneticaly related to you doesn't mean they're a healthy person to have in your life. I thought that was a good way to put it -- life is short, you need to keep it as happy and non-toxic as possible.
Enjoy the rest of your stay in Philly! My best friends from college lives there and loves it, but coming from Portland, I can see why you might be counting the days. ;)