Friday, October 28, 2011

How My Flatiron Ruined My Life

Do you ever have those moments when you realize you've been saying something for a really long time that is completely untrue?  Only, you kind of forgot that it wasn't true? 

Recently, I was having a conversation with some of my life-support mommy friends about hair.  About how, even with the best intentions and perhaps even a special event to attend, my hair always ends up in a messy bun at the back of my head.  At some point, I stated that a quick flip with the rubber band is just loads easier than pulling out the flatiron.  Not to mention that my children care more about how fast I can get their food on the table than what my hair looks like.  Someone exclaimed, "But I thought your hair was perfectly straight?!"  To which I replied with something like, "No way, man.  It's like half kinky, half wavy.  It's always been such a pain.  Without the flatiron, I'd  look like an amazon woman!"

Later, as I was brushing my teeth, I was also staring at my hair, which I had just pulled out of its 15 hour bun.  Pretty stuff.  Anyhow, I was thinking about a picture I have of me and my friend in high school and I realized I was a liar!

Lie #1: It's always been such a pain.
Lie #2: Without the flatiron, I'd look like an amazon woman!

When I was a baby all the way through about sixth grade, I took a bath at night and slept on wet hair.  And my hair was straight and soft and manageable.  After that, I started taking showers in the morning, usually blow drying what portion of my head was still wet before I ran for the bus or my ride to school.  And my hair was straight and soft and manageable.  In college, I usually showered at night to avoid the morning bathroom craze and if I was feeling groovy, I might use a fat curling iron to spice up the ends of my long hair.  The rest was straight and soft and manageable.

We interrupt this post to admit there were a couple poodle perms in there somewhere, in which case my hair was NOT straight, but scrunched to crisp perfection.  It 'twas the late 80's/early 90's after all.

Back to my lament. 

So I'm standing there in my current-day bathroom thinking to myself, "Huh.  I used to have straight hair."  And then I am wondering, very confused-like, when my hair became unstraight.  You might guess that it was when I became pregnant or had a baby, since a lot of us know what those demons we call "hormones" can do to every last inch of our bodies.  But would be wrong. 

I had straight hair until Fall of 2002.  I was 24 years old.  I had a newish job and a girl I worked with had what seemed to be thinner, totally sleek hair.  I complimented her on her runway looking hair and she said to me, "Oh, thanks.  It's because I use a flatiron every day.  It helps it stay super-smooth all day." 

I had no idea what she was talking about, but probably something like the next day I owned one.  The very first day I used it, I got complimented on my hair by several people in the office.  So then I straightened my straight hair.  Every day.  For many, many, many days.  Since I had an office job, my hair had to look nice from Monday to Friday and then of course I had to look nice for Jesus on Sundays.  I can't really remember that long ago, but I'm assuming that I probably wore a perfectly parted ponytail on Saturdays, all sleeked back thanks to the ironing I had performed on my hair the day before.  There were a few times, I showered and left my hair wet (only on a Saturday, of course) and **shock** there was a bit of wave to it.  So I put some mousse in it and scrunched it up! 

Of course, then I kind of looked like I tried to perform an at-home perm my myself and forgot to attend to half my hair.  Anyhow, suddenly, my hair was weird.  It wasn't straight, but it wasn't curly.  It was kind of a hybrid.  And not like the efficient car.  More like those crazy monster-hybrids you hear about on shows like the Vampire Diaries.  So I continued to flatiron my hair.

This practice went on religiously for almost four years.  Then I had a baby.  And if you are a new mom and have time to shower AND flatiron your hair, then either YOUR mom lives with you or you're rich and have a nanny.  Pretty much, since mid-2006, I have lived with hair that is not straight, soft or manageable.  It is kinky and frizzy and out of control.

I still occasionally iron my head for church on Sundays, and that is pretty much limited to Sundays where I'm standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people who might feel pity for me if I didn't spend half and hour making my hair look like it just IS that way.  Yes, half an hour.  20 minutes if I'm in a hurry.  I can't do anything at 50% (except clean the house or finish painting or okay maybe it's just about vanity in this case) so I iron my head in layers so each individual strand is perfectly straight. 

Ugh.  It doesn't even look friendly!

So.  In conclusion, I hate my flatiron.  It ruined my ability to let my hair air dry without looking like I walk around in a humidity bubble.  I sentenced it to daily burnings for years and it won't let me forget it. 

It showed me.

Also, did I just blog about a flatiron? least I blogged.


{Jess} said...

Oh, Steph...I LOVE this post!!! Funny stuff. And I do LOVE the fact that you blogged about a flatiron. :)For what it's worth, I feel your pain. If I want my hair to not look crazy I have to either (1) pull it straight back into a ponytail or (2) Blow it completely dry AND straighten it! Ugh.

Tibbslove said...

Steph... glad to hear from you again! I've missed you.

And yes... the flatiron... ruining all of our lives by taking away any naturalness we may have in our hair. Sheesh.

Also... lookin' pretty for Jesus... hilarious to think about, but so true. Great way to put it.