Someone please remind me that I have curly hair before I decide to cut bangs again (I already know there will be a next time). I always cut my hair to commemorate a new chapter in my life. I was envisioning a hair unveiling akin to Lenny Kravitz after he decided to cut off his dreads. Instead, as I stare at my reflection in the mirror after a day of rain showers and humidity all I can say is, crap...and doo doo and an assortment of equally naughty words.
I was hoping that my thirties would allow me to settle into a confident beauty routine. It was a decade where I would figure out what my best features are, highlight them appropriately, hone in on my flaws and work with what I've got. Instead I point to the picture in the magazine with the girl sporting a thick main of straight, manageable hair and say "I want that". Shouldn't I have this figured out by now? Aren't hairdressers legally responsible for this type of ignorance? Really, it is not her fault. I told the hairdresser that I wanted to want to spend time on my hair. What the "h" does that mean? It's no wonder I walked out of the salon wondering what I had just committed to.
Note to self:
1. Three simple words...wash and go. Not wash and mousse and dry and flat iron and spray and go.
2. Curly hair is your reality. Unless you plan on moving to a desert, humidity is also your reality.
3. Next time the impulse strikes, buy nail polish. Wild and crazy nail polish in any color imaginable. Buy gems and fill-ins and any other product Sally Hanson offers. Just no bangs.
Ella, I hope to have most of this ironed out (flat ironed...get it?) by the time your memories become a part of your consciousness. Although a lot of fun can be had in the "hunt" for personal beauty.
Luckily hair grows and so does our understanding of our own goofy ways.
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