Bad Hair Day
I've always hated my hair.
It's curly, but not cute-curly, just curly enough that I can't make it do what I want. Plus it grows really slowly, so it's never been my longer than my ears. This was a major contention with me growing up, as I grew up in the era of Farrah Fawcett feathered hair. Plus there was no hair product during my formative years, with the exceptions of Aqua-Net and Dippity-Doo.
When L'oreal came out with styling mousse my sophomore year in college, I swear I could hear the angels sing the first time I used it.
I pretty much took care of my hair problem, by keeping it short. Whenever I'd go to a new hairdresser and he'd ask how I'd like it, I'd just say "Give me a lesbian haircut" and he'd know what I meant.
(I probably offended someone with that, so I apologize, but everyone knows what I mean when I use that description.)
I've colored my hair since I was sixteen, so I honestly don't know the natural color. Since I am battling grays like crazy, it's probably mostly gray.
So about a year and a half ago, I decided that I would just give into it and see what happened. I've only had the ends trimmed and have colored it. It's about down to the tops of my shoulders if I let it air-dry.
That is, until yesterday.
I went to my cute hairdresser Joe, and after he cut it, asked if I'd like a blow out. Usually he just uses the diffuser, but I thought, why not.
And the angels sang again.
Turns out, my hair is almost long, another first for me. I had STRAIGHT, swingy hair for about two hours, until the humidity got to it. I flipped my head of STRAIGHT hair around so much, I'm surprised I didn't give myself whiplash.
I'm going to try it myself, but not until the humidity subsides.
Truly, a life-changing event.