blog entry

Feeling Samson-ish

I never thought that one's identity could be contained in dead follicles. Maybe I was wrong. B.C. (before children) I rocked the prettiest natural curls/ringlets that you could possibly imagine. Shirley Temple hated me, and I hated them. I wanted straight hair, Jennifer Aniston hair, hair that didn't turn me into a human barometer when the humidity was high. No matter that it fit my personality, didn't have to be washed everyday, looked fine up OR down, and allowed me to trim it myself, as with curls, you can never really tell anyway. I wanted it to go A.W.A.Y! Then it did. After giving birth to Freddy, it became straight for approximately 3-6 months. In between wondering why my little tortured baby would never stop crying and hoping that I didn't smelleth, I don't really think I, or anyone else, noticed. The curl returned, and all was as it was before. Sort of. Then...... welcome Dora, goodbye Phantom of the Opera tendrils. My hair was straight, oily, and foreign. For a while it made little difference, since those months of sleepwalking leave you apathetic in regards to anything other than boobies, bottles, Little Einstein, and the dream of a 5 minute nap. When it was possible to be a person again, imagine my dismay when I discovered that my once fluffy hair was now oily, straight, and funky STRAIGHT! I tried to scrunch, I tried to curl, I tried to roll, I cut it off. Yep. In a moment of crazy, I climbed up into my bathroom sink and cut until it was gone. It seems the only think that accomplished was that it gave my neck some air, so I decided to try to roll with it. I spent a day locked up in the bathroom working it out, the "how does it fall", "where do I part this crap", "what do you mean I need volumizing lotion?!" stuff..... Then last weekend, you know, the weekend I went "camping", there was no hair dryer, so I let it air dry, and walked to rehearsal with wet head. Soon after, my old people friends in choir began to compliment me on my curls. I thought they were lacking an oxygen mask or a sugar pill until I went to the loo. Peering into the mirror, I saw it. Me. The old me. The me with the fluffy hair! I'm sure I stared at myself for a full 2 minutes. Joy! Joy! Joy! It's back! I thought it was possibly a fluke, maybe some magic country air. But I'm now 3 shampoos in and all is well. I feel so much more myself with my friend hair on my head. Reading this back, it sounds rawther base. Too surfacey..... but it makes me happy. I like sharing my happy with you.