I Love My Hair Today...

My hair and I have been having a contest of wills since I was old enough to have to start "styling" it myself. I use the world style loosely...as it is more like I have to sneak up on my hair and trick it into doing what I want it to do. Of all the racial groups on planet Earth...mixed kids get the shortest end of the stick when it comes to products. My hair grows in such strange patterns that in high school...when I would go the Aveda Institute for a hair cut...the instructors would summon students near and far to stare, poke, prod and product my hair.  Finally, after ten years of daily defeats in the War Against My Follicles...I cried havoc and dropped the equivalent of the atom bomb on my head...my freshmen year of college...I shaved it completely off.

I remember it vividly. I'd seen Jordan walking around campus with his recently shaven scalp reflecting sunlight in all directions. And I knew at that moment that I had the answer I needed to win the fight. I mustered up my courage to make the ultimate sacrifice...I marched into my dorm room...where I found Jerry and Leah...and I announced that I wanted someone to shave my head. Jerry shook his head and said that he didn't want to get cut once it was over and I realized what I'd done. He excused himself from the room just in case I lashed out at the innocent when the mission had been accomplished. Leah, being the matter-of-fact girl with sensible shoes she is, eagerly agreed to scalp me. When it was all over. I took a deep breath. And looked in the mirror. Other than the fact that my pate was unusually pale (since it had never seen the sun...ever)...I found that I liked it. And for the next decade of my life...whenever my hair started thinking about getting long enough to curl...I dashed to the nearest discount salon and put my hair back in its place. Over the last ten years I've thought about growing my hair out. But the minute the curls showed up and started getting a little bit unruly...the control freak in me would start gibbering...and I would dart to my friendly neighborhood Great Clips and pop a Celexa. 

But last August...I decide to make peace with my hair. I signed a treaty agreeing to not cut my hair (other than the occasional clean up around the neckline) for one year. In the beginning...it was a daily struggle not to go the way of the U.S. Government with just about every treaty it ever signed...but with a little courage...and a new collection of bandanas and trendy baseball caps...I have now made it to a point...some four and a half months into the treaty period...that I am starting to love my curly hair. To begin with...I finally found a product that is strong enough to hold things in place but light enough that it doesn't hold my hair hostage (thank you Fructis!). And the curls are fully, shiny, long, and wavy. This morning, I took a look in the mirror, and apologized to my hair for nearly twenty years of repression.

Now...I still have some eight months to go in the treaty period. I'm sure there will again be moments when I get the urge to go around the treaty by actually pulling my hair out of my head instead of cutting it (I'd make a great U.S. attorney). But I have faith that I will make it through. I still have those bandanas and hats...just in case.