cluttering the net since 2001

my hair rules, but we hate combs

Wednesday, Dec. 08, 2004
Last night I was blathering with boredom. Today, here I am again, blathering with more boredom, waiting to go and get some lunch in a bit. In the meantime, let me talk about my own hair. This morning the man told me “you wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t spend so much time on your hair every morning.” I suppose this means I’d get ten more minutes of sleep. We allll know that ten minutes would make me one happy little shortcake girl now don’t we? So..back to the hair…

I get a lot of compliments on my hair and yet I think I’m so stuck in the eighties. I used to have fin’it is. Meaning the top of my hair was big and shark fin shaped. My fin was a thing of beauty and sometimes I find my hands wanting to fluff that fin’ish up. I restrain myself and if it goes there naturally I admire it but I do not AquaNet it there like I did in the eighties and early nineties. I have tried a lot of hairstyles. Usually it’s the “chop it off, lop it off and whine til it grows back” ordeal. I’ve come to the forgone conclusion that I’ll only ever be happy with hair, and longish at that. I look rather like a boy without hair.

My hairstylist, her name is Christine. She’s forty’ish and works at Mia & Maxx at the mall. I went there once for convenience sake, the second time because it wasn’t so bad the first time and on the 2nd time I got Christine and I fell in love. No, it’s not her own great hairstyle, nor is it the fact that she openly admits to nearly divorcing her cheating man, but finding that it was just too much hassle to go man shopping at this late stage in her life. (Although, I do secretly harbor lust for her for that latter reason!) It is really the fact that she’s real and talks to me about things on my level and we have “girl” time. But it’s not even that lesbianism fetish of girly time I have with her that makes me love her. It is my hair that makes me love her. My hair that not only behaves but does back flips and amazing things (my hair can hoola hoop I tell ya..HOOLA HOOP!) for months after my love sessions with Christine’s talented hands. She’s simply and utterly amazing. She makes my hair simply and utterly amazing for months on end. When the time comes for my hair to see Christine it doesn’t speak about it one day in passing, but rather this slow whine and need presents itself and then one day it’s all over and my hair is crying and sobbing and it must see Christine immediately if not sooner. There is no lead up to the lustful need.

Amongst my recent comments, “Is that your real hair color, it’s so hard to tell so I have to ask.?” No it is not my real hair color, but it is a real hair color and therefore it looks as real as it can get. My hair is currently highlighted because when I was 19 it looked like this. Years of bitter marriage made it get darker and darker, but alas I DO NOT have any gray hair and therefore I am not hiding or covering up anything but rather I am enhancing my hair with it’s original flair, and this is no cheap Clairol boxjob. This is an hour in Christine’s hands and 10 minutes of dry/set time in Mia & Maxx’s amazing color machine. No dryer on my head!! And I swear their color process is the reason why my hair is soft and beautiful and not dry and hay-like.

Another comment, “Who does your hair and HOW much must you pay for that?” This comment was today and was said in the way of someone with hair envy. Hair envy is something I had for the 6 years of my teenage life where I secretly envied my own sisters loveRly locks. Her hair just went the way it should and she could do that hair fling with the best of them.

Today, I jumped into the 4 mirror walled elevator here at the U. and I found myself really looking at myself in the mirror. And I thought, now DAMN there is a reason why people ask me about my hair. I then noticed that my fat ass isn’t so fat anymore, my tummy no longer looks like a feed sack for my cat, and I just looked hard and was staring and having a self epiphany and then the door opened and a bunch of guys were standing there. I was almost embarrassed until I realized that self love…truly loving oneself flaws and all and seeing your own beauty…that’s priceless and I’m not embarrassed to say I finally like myself. I finally can live with my too fat arms and my crooked eyesight and my “won’t ever be petite” body. I love me, I’m beautiful and damn do I have killer nice hair. The best thing about my hair, it's long enough for the man to run his fingers thru it and lightly tug out those snags I occasionally get...and there's no better feeling than that! Oh and runner up is that I only spend 10 minutes every morning on it and I get complimented all the time. Thank you Christine and Thank You GOD!


Disclaimer: I do NOT have the hots for my hairstylist. It's not MY fault I almost have an orgasm when she washes my hair. It just feels soooo damn good...and she takes her time and she smells great and and...wait...I do NOT have the hots for my hairstylist!!!
3:00 p.m. ::
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