Hair. It's a love hate relationship. My hair is naturally wavy, but curly at times. That means at any given time, I am required to have curling hair products, wavy hair products and straightening hair products on hand at all times. When I was younger my mom did what all moms of little girls do...what their mothers did to their hair, all the while saying "at least you have better tools now! We had to use juice cans!". Before every dance recital, my mom would shampoo our hair the night before and roll it in those sponge rollers. Yes...the ones that created the curls of frizz! Then we were expected to sleep on those. As most people with curly hair, I also have a tender head. That means when I brush my hair...it hurts! Badly! Like as if I can feel every hair on my head being pulled out one by one. My mother did not understand this. She has straight hair and LOVES having her hair brushed. Growing up my sisters and I would take turns playing "beauty shop". We would pull, curl, braid and I'm quite sure, tangle her hair. And she loved it. A lot. As a teenager I quit fussing over my mom's hair (my sister took over) and started putting energy in my own hair. When I hit high school my hair was a curly frizzy mess. I remember laying on the floor in the den, putting a towel over my long hair and ironing it. No...that was way before flat irons...I mean a clothes iron. Yep. And boy was it straight! I was not allowed to die my hair; not even highlights. I remember using sun in and tanning on my roof. I guess orange was lighter than brown, right?! Junior year of Hugh school I discovered temporary color. Cinnamon was my choice of color. It had a burgundy, red hue. It went perfect with my milky white skin and my fake green contacts. It was just like being Irish for real! Then senior pictures came and went and everyone...I mean everyone...was cutting their hair off. I mean we grew our hair out for senior pictures right? That's over and I have the pictures to prove it, so cut it off! The year was 1994...and the bob was back in full effect. So, I did it. I cut off my long hair. I got a boyfriend who liked the short hair cut and had an awesome fall of my senior year. Then. I got pregnant and boy did that hair grow! Quickly! Thank God, because we definitely didn't think about prom when we cut all that hair off. So for prom, we tried an up-do. Hmmmm. Not so much. But I was pregnant with the boyfriend who liked short hair, right?! Well, being pregnant, my mom gave me a bit of advice (this one was about hair)..."you will want to grow it out, so when the baby comes you can just out it in a pony tail. You know when you are a mom you may not have time to take care of yourself". So I started growing it out. The boyfriend went to military training and I got hugely pregnant, and the hair grew quickly. The baby was born and my mom was right! My hair did not matter at all. Weird thing is, it became straight. Then the boyfriend who liked short hair became the husband who liked long hair. So I just kept on growing it. Problem was, it was still straight, but only in some places. So some hairstylist in Texas told me if I wanted my hair to be all curly (think bigger) I needed a perm. Flash back to sixth grade when my mom gave my a perm....ewwwww yuck! But she promised me that a spiral perm would be perfect! So I sat, and sat, and sat in the chair and stood, and stood on the floor to let her spiral perm the hair that was almost all the way down my back. Seven hours later, I loved it! Six months later the husband who liked long hair became the husband who liked the short-haired best friend of the wife with long hair. I moved home, changed my life and chopped it all off..it felt awesome. Letting go. Cutting that hair felt like cutting all the hurt in my life. It helped! Then as a single mom, I didn't have time for hair. School full time...work full time...parent full time...pony tail time. Over time and through relationships, I had long hair, then short hair. I could change my life through hair! Changes in hair color, hair cuts and hair do's changed my life. Then I made the biggest hair mistake ever...EVER! I couldn't wait to get an appointment with my hairstylist, or I was in between hairstylists...I don't remember. All I remember is that I was going through a bad break up and I needed to feel better. So I headed to the mall. Yep. I made that mistake. I walked in and I signed the book. "Did I have a special stylist?" the receptionist asked...do people actually have a favorite stylist at the mall? "Nope...". Now I know what you are all thinking...I should have run. But I figured I would give him benefit of the doubt. I showed him a picture. He got it. Then he started cutting. I should have known when he was measuring with a comb that he had no clue...but once he started cutting there was nothing I could do. Everyone in that place watched this guy butcher my hair. Tears rolled down my face, I paid and I ran out to my car. And I cried. I cried over the broken heart, I cried over my short, curly, Afro, I cried because I knew it was my fault. The relationship, the hair, the damage. That was my penance. And that was the end of using my hair to make me a different person. It took four months to look presentable. I didn't wear a hat. And yes, people did talk and whisper behind my back. But four months later it was short, curly and spunky and I was back on the single market. I didn't care about my hair. I just washed it and let it do. That's what I had done for months and it looked as good as it was going to look. I met the man that I knew I would spend the rest of my life with during that time. If he could love me with my hair looking like this, it had to be true love, right? So my new man, my new hair and I got married and I let it grow...and grow. Then, I got pregnant. I remember what my mom had said. So I continued to grow my hair. Then Alex was born and he loved my long hair! He loved it so much that during feedings he would reach his hands behind my neck and pull....PULL! And the pain was bad. After a couple of months I had had it. I went straight to the hair dresser (well Frank's at the time, because mine didn't come back after Katrina) and I said take it all off. All of the back. Short. And that was it. Short it stayed. Several styles. Several colors. Another pregnancy began the grow out phase. Then the cut phase. About a year after I had Grace I decided to grow out my hair. Not sure why, but it was very hard. I had never made it past the weird grow out phase in the past few years. I always gave and cut it off. This time I decided I would grow it out. The husband had never seen it long except when I was pregnant and hormonal. The other night my mom watched Grace while we spent quality time with Alex and Kait. We came back to her house and Gracie was doing my moms hair. It was like going back in time. I've tried to think of the reasons I decided growing my hair out was a good idea. In the past I have been through doing my hair for other people and doing it for myself. Now I realize I have grown out my hair so that my baby girl can play beauty shop with it. Does it hurt? Hell yes! Like you wouldn't believe. But she loves it and I love her, so I grin and bear it, and always make sure to say "oh lady, you did a wonderful job with my hair! Thanks so much!". And I make sure to tip the hair dresser, in chocolate of course!
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