I believe it’s a rare woman who doesn’t struggle with her hair. Curly-heads want straight hair. Straight-haired ladies want curls. Our hair is too limp or too fine or too coarse or too thick or too bushy or too grey or too blonde or not blonde enough. We want our best friend’s hair desperately, because her is so gorgeous, while she says exactly the same thing in reverse. It seems we are almost never happy. (I’m sure the men around us would agree.)
Easter, 1979 – “boy” cut
I’m right there with the majority of womankind. I’ve rarely been in love with my hair. In its natural state, it’s fine, incredibly thick, yes, but with no volume, due to said fineness. (And said thickness has decreased significantly since bearing children.) There’s just enough wave to make it look a little odd if left down. My face shape doesn’t support the ongoing trend of long, super-straight hair, so as easy as that would be for me to achieve with my hair, I never, ever do so.
Fifth Birthday, March, 1980 – growing it out…nice bangs. At least I was on trend!
And my hair doesn’t hold curl if it has any length at all. Throw all the product and procedure you want at it – hot rollers, curling irons, etc. – it doesn’t hold. Short of those extraordinarily time-consuming pin curls (for which I used to beg my mother), nothing works. I’ve been known to spend an hour on my hair only to have it fall flat thirty minutes after leaving the house.
Junior High…1988? The BANGS! Gotta love the 80′s.
Except a perm. Give me a perm, and it will hold, as long as I’m careful not to let a brush anywhere near it.
August, 1988 – There you have it, folks, the hat that gave me the nickname “Gilligan” in marching band. Let’s forget the hat, though…what was up with those shorts??
So, I perm. Since my most recent love affair with perms began in 2006, I’ve learned how to take care of curly hair…unlike in high school, when I didn’t understand the brush rule and spent way too much time in hats, resulting in a flat top layer and a frizzball everywhere else.
1994 – Again with the bangs. I didn’t come to terms with my short forehead until after we were married.
There’s an additional obstacle in my search for The Perfect Coif: I hate spending time on morning ablutions. I have never, except for a very short stint with “The Rachel” in the 90′s (sorry, no photos exist of that one!), been willing to spend time with a blow dryer in front of the mirror each morning. People, I could be accomplishing shit during that time! Reading books…doing something meaningful…sleeping. (Yeah, it’s pretty much the sleeping that takes priority.)
2003 – 21 weeks pregnant with Kalen. There are an inordinate number of photos of me with pony tails over the years…it’s a good indicator of when it’s past time for a cut.
Which brings us to reason #2 for perming: scrunch and go. Wash, pick through, use product, scrunch, and walk out of the bathroom. With the right cut and the right product, I am a happy camper.
September, 2008 – Immediately post-perm. This was my favorite hair dresser ever. He moved back to Florida, and I moved to Washington State. *sob*
Reason #3 for perming? The greys tend to blend in a bit more than they otherwise would. My notice of this benefit increases with each passing year, especially since my hair dresser recommends holding off on coloring for awhile, so as not to double up on the chemicals going into my strands.
Today – March 9, 2012. I’m happy.
I’m probably more happy with my hair right now than I have been in a long time. Being a brunette suits me, the curls suit me, and I can pin it back to row.
Scrunch & go, baby.