I have rarely ever met anyone who loves their hair. Mostly it’s women, but often it’s men as well. I have seen women who have hair I would love to have—and guess what? They hate it. I would have loved to have had long wavy tresses that flowed down my back like a gorgeous river. But no—my hair has always been short because of my inheritance: each and every female in my family had/has thick coarse hair like mine.
When I was in my 20s, I let my hair grow to a shoulder-length pageboy style. My ultimate goal was to have a pony tail. Well, guess what—the pony tail was massively thick. In fact, when I tried to put an elastic band around it, the elastic band broke and ran off into a corner, sobbing.
Worse than that, I felt like I had a very hot hat on my head. It was horrible. The very next day I went to a salon and got a short haircut. Soooooo much better.
I used to work with a beautiful young woman who had the kind of hair I wanted; waist length, shiny and silky deep brown hair with golden highlights. I told her how lovely it was, and she rolled her eyes. She said that just a simple shampoo, hair-drying and styling took her nearly an hour! AN HOUR!!! Who has that kind of time?
A few months later, she was in a car accident and broke her arm. She could not manage her hair on her own, so her husband, a big fan of long hair, had to take care of it for her. He had told her for years that she should never ever cut her hair, that he loved it and couldn’t imagine her without it.
Well—after two weeks of washing, drying and styling her long hair, he begged her to have it cut. She went to her hairdresser just as fast as she could, and came back with a beautiful shoulder-length hairdo. Her exhausted husband loved it, but not as much as she did!
I would say that most of us get more upset about our hair that about our weight. Seriously, hair is a major issue. If we are born with curly hair, we want straight hair. If we are born with straight hair, we want curly hair. In college I watched more young women wear orange juice cans in their hair so that in the morning it would look naturally wavy.
And does anyone remember those hellacious wire and brush rollers? It’s a wonder that I don’t still have dents in my scalp from sleeping on those torturous things in high school. My mother set her hair in pin curls, which to me was just one more pain-in-the scalp.
I have to say that these days women of all ages have freed themselves from the shackles of trying to make their hair do things it was never meant to do. I want to cheer for every girl or woman who proudly flaunts the hair that God gave them: curly, straight, long, short, shaved, funky, daring, dyed, and so on. Just the other day I was admiring a woman who had a head full of bouncy light-brown cascading curls. She looked absolutely gorgeous and proud of herself. (She should be proud; she looked amazing!)
There are women who dye their hair with different colors and look fabulous. I bought myself some temporary hair mascara; one hot pink and one purple. Like mascara, it has a wand, and you simply stroke the color on wherever you want it. I have some silver hair around my temples, so that’s where I put it. It looks fun, and with one shampoo, it’s gone; no big deal.
So ladies, what do you say we stop hating our hair, and start loving it instead? Try a new style or color or shape or just something different. If you don’t like it, hair grows back. Sometimes it’s fun to just break out your freak flag and fly it proudly.