Recently, I was having a conversation with some of my
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 no...you 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? Well...at least I blogged.