stripped bare

Is spending too much time and money on my hair indulgent, sadistic, or masochistic?

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I have a love/hate relationship with my hair.

I love it to the point of insanity. I sacrifice sleep to style it so that it looks picture perfect when I step out of the house. I touch my hair several times a minute to make sure it’s still there. I spend hundreds of dollars a year on salons and products – even more than I care to spend on my face and clothes. That’s why, til this day, I have long, soft flowy locks that reach my waist. It’s been the envy of many and the admiration of even more. I admit it has brought me alot of attention (much more than my face, dammit!).

I also hate it to the point of screaming. No matter how I look just before I leave my house, it becomes putty in the hands of the wind. You’ve never met flyaway hair until you’ve met me. I have more bad hair days than ovulation days, and trust me, it activates more Post MadHair Symptoms (PMS) that my period itself. My hair description lies in-between wavy and straight. It sounds really sexy, except that when I want it to be curly, it refuses to budge, and when I want it to be straight, it goes all springy on me.

Once in a while, I wake up with the straights in the right places and the waves at the correct angles. That’s once in a purple moon. Most times, I start with letting it all hang out, but end up braiding it instead. Oh yes. I’ve joined the crowd and rebonded it too. Gave me the best year of my life – until it grew out. And the funny thing is, I’ve grown tired of that flat, uninventive, common look.

6 months ago, I decided to do something about my hair, like maybe a colour, or a cut with bangs, you know, just something. Because of this love/hate thing going on, I still haven’t decided on what to do with it. Not only is J getting tired of my whining, I’m driving myself crazy. Yes, it’s about time to visit the salon after all. My mom thinks all this worrying about my hair means I’m vain. I can’t agree more. Hey I’m not Jennifer Aniston, I HAVE to worry or I won’t be able to leave my house.


Written by smudgi3

January 18, 2005, Tuesday at 23:20

Posted in Uncategorized

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