It’s Hair Week over at the Tiki Tiki, so I thought I’d share a bit about my hair. It started out innocently enough…I had thin, soft hair like any other baby. Then a few months later the curls appeared. Still cute, right? Except I was born in the 70’s, and afros were in, so my hair decided to be trendy and grow up, literally. Even at a young age I got frustrated with it. Then my family started experimenting: Keep it short and bob-like, Sure why not? Blow it dry and brush it out? Yeah that sounds good! Nah, let’s go back to that first style….and they stuck with this one for a long, long time.
My stepfather was (is?) a finicky man (I’m being very kind as the most accurate descriptor is an entirely different post), and it wasn’t till I was about 14 or 15 that I was permitted to grow my hair out. It is unavoidable that hair that is growing out will reach awkward phases, and mine was no exception. Fortunately for me (please note the sarcasm) this occurred while I was in high school. While simultaneously wearing glasses. And braces. Good times.
As is almost always the case, life after high school was much better, and the relationship between me and my hair evolved into more love and less hate. At least once a year I’ll cut it just under my ears, and I’ve even managed to learn to style it straight. We get along great, unless it’s really hot and strands stick to my face and neck, or it’s really humid and I resemble a brillo pad. But other than that, my hair and I? We’re good friends.