4.27.2004

Things for which I feel guilty, and a brief history of my hair

- not dancing one-on-one with those lesbians saturday night

- trying to convince my roommate to eat a sauteed cicada before i try one myself

- being so list-y on this site

- being visibly impatient in the grocery line

- being so proud of my nails that i keep making my friends ooh & aaah over them

- okay, being a little curious about lil jon's new porno

- secretly wanting to guilt you, internet, into leaving me comments!!!

and now, the hair.

when i was born i had a lot of hair. black hair. and i pretty much ignored it until i was 4 and, my mother safely out of the house, i asked my dad if i could cut it. he was watching the game, so, of course, he said yes. and i cut a huge triangle out of my bangs, apparently ruining my perfect, straight, shiny, enviable head of hair. this was just the first in a long and never ending chain of instances that would devastate my mother, or at least make her say, "i'll remember this."

the next time i ruined my hair i was 8. my mother safely out of the salon, i asked my stylist for a perm, promising her my mom said it was okay. i'm not sure if it was the chemicals in the permanent or those coursing through my pre-pubescent veins, but my hair was never again straight.

things were okay until i was 12. then i needed, had to have, could not live without a mary lou retton coif. my mother safely out of her mind, i attempted to describe to my stylist (different one this time; my mother moved me across state lines after the perm "incident.") what sort of cut i wanted. i must have failed miserably, because i left the salon in tears and literally walked around the house with a blanket on my head for three days.

once that had grown out, i discovered the magic of gel. and hairspray. and curling irons. i once turned my head upside down & used an entire bottle of hairspray just to get my hair to stand up straight off the top of my head. it worked. but for an easier day-to-day look, i manipulated the bangs.

oh my god the bangs.

wanting to be different from all the other girls who curled their bangs forward, teased & sprayed, i decided to blow mine back, feather & spray. it certainly set me apart.

the bang era was tense. there was no half-assing the bangs. my life depended on these bangs. i would try two and three times to get them just so. have you ever used so much hair spray it starts to flake off? don't. i'm pretty sure it will stunt your growth.

after the bang years, i came into myself. i got comfortable with the boobs and the hips and the hair. i was more relaxed, and so was my hair. there was no blow drying, straightening, spraying or gelling. this was the woodstock of my coif. the boys loved it.

then i was a sister! college was a little more, shall we say, pressure-filled. these girls took primping to unknown levels. the pentagon should tap these sorority girls and use them to diffuse bombs & find bin laden in those caves--i have never seen such careful, meticulous precision. and it would totally hold all night. thankfully, i came to know my fairy god mother patty, and she gave it to me straight (no pun.) patty gave me the best of hair of my life thus far. and, my mother still safely across aforementioned state lines, patty introduced me to layers. i had significantly lower-maintenance hair than my sisters!, but damn, i looked good.

my new lover, i mean stylist, is aykut. the first time i met him he asked me, "who did this to you?" the second i met him he asked me. "who did this to you?" now that we've gotten past all the mushy, lovey-dovey talk, we pretty much focus on our upcoming marriage. oh, and my hair. which i am thinking about chopping off.

so i ask you, internet, got any good hair stories?