My hair


As I write this, it is lunch. Twelve oh two to be precise. Before I left the house this morning I put gel in my hair as usual, taking care in the bathroom mirror to ensure not a hair was out of place. I work in an office building. It is not a particularly windy day. My hair just won’t sit still.


I meant to take a second photo after another half day of work without going outside, but we had a fire drill and there was wind during that. So this is after for hours of work then a fire drill then another hour of work. Still…

This is two minutes later after fixing it as best I can….

And this is after three minutes of being outside again, in my car, Nala. My hair resists attempts to restrain it.

Now I know what you’re going to say. Plenty of well meaning people have said it before. “Oh, it’ll look so pretty if you just…”. Believe me, I’ve tried. Normal conditioner, leave in conditioner, no conditioner, gel, mousse, spray, Combs of all shapes and sizes, not combing unless wet, braiding every night, leaving it in a braid instead of a ponytail, wearing it down, ceramic straighteners, professional straightening…

There’s one other thing people say about my hair: “it’s so beautiful! You’re so lucky! ” I don’t know what to make of this. What does this mean? It looks nothing like any other hair described such. Usual terms used to describe it, like Unruly, Unmanageable, Wild, Untameable, are almost never seen in the same sentence as positive adjectives.

Once when I was a kid, we were given an assignment to create an invention. I invented a bike that had a sink on it so you could brush your teeth on the way to school and not run so late. Someone suggested adding a hairbrush as well. I thought it was a good idea, but the teacher instantly swooped in to add “He didn’t mean it that way, I’m sure.” It was only then that I was aware that it could have been a slur against my hair, how it always looked uncombed. To his credit, he also looked aghast, and immediately echoed the teacher’s sentiments. But someone had to have snickered. Someone had to have thought of it that way. Even if it was only the teacher.

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One Response to My hair

  1. Pingback: My Story: My Body | Raven Wings

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