Bad Hair Days

I'm having 'em. Lots of 'em. Yesterday, I think I caught some young children pointing to my head & laughing.

I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. On second thought...make that a "I really don't like it, but it's all that I have & beats the alternative"/hate relationship. My hair is tolerable when I have a straightener on it--at least it doesn't go all Q-tip-y on me in the humidity...I can at least beat it into submission when it's straight(er).

And, it "goes" fairly nicely when it's short--I think because there's less of it to fight back. See--I think that's what it is. At night, when I'm asleep, all the follicles & strands get together to plot against me. And right before, say, a job interview, or, I don't know...my first day at a new job--I have atrocious hair. I mean really, really bad. As it was this time, with this new job. Luckily, they didn't hire me for my tresses...which is a good thing. 'Cuz I would have been, as The Donald likes to say, Fired.

Right now, I'm letting it grow out. It was looking good--it even looks good in my driver's license photo (and how rare is that??? See, I snuck up on it that day...my hair had no idea where we were going when I set out that day....)! And then I thought, "Maybe I'll get it trimmed, just shape it up a bit.” It was to a length that I was able to let the curl come out just a bit and do this cute flippy thing at the ends.

It was a good hair cut; I just think that all the cute parts got cut off.

And then I thought…maybe it’s just got too much curl…maybe with some of the length gone, the curl is just going wild. So then I got a straightener, figured I’d tell my hair who’s boss.

Well, my hair is the boss of me. The straightener took…but only on parts of my hair. So some sections are curly…some are straight. And unfortunately, those sections are on opposite sides of my head. So you look at me from the left: curly! You look at me from the right: straight! You look at me dead on: lopsided!!!

I think the people at work refer to me as “That girl with the weird hair.”

Before I walked out of the door today, I stopped, turned to my left and went into the bathroom & rewet my head. It was either that, or cry. So, I managed to do something halfway decent with it (at least hopefully the children would stop pointing & laughing, whereas I know that they’d sell tickets with the way it had looked before the rewetting), and faced the day.

I just hope that whatever my hair is doing, wherever it’s trying to go—it gets there fast, and stops exacting this revenge on me. Because my parents are coming to visit, and I’d sure like to have good hair when they get here.