I am over my summer hair. This is a problem because, well, it’s not technically summer until next week. But I don’t care. I am OVER it.
In case you’ve never looked at my picture I have curly hair. And I have a lot of it. And it is big. So, to recap, I have big, poofy hair.
If my hair is short, I tend to look like this:
And when my hair is longer, and I attempt to tame it (aka blow it dry so I can straighten the living shit out of it) I look like this:
Except…you know…without the freakish clown makeup.
So, as you can guess, this is kind of an issue. And when it’s hot and humid out, well, I look like Monica Gellar in The One in Barbados.
So I pile on the products. First the curling spray/leave-in conditioner. Then the gel. Then the smoothing serum. It looks good. Then I walk outside and….POOF! Cute hair is gone and poofy, ridiculous, uncontrollable fluff is back.
And there’s nothing I can do with it. Every day for the last few weeks I have twisted the front pieces of my hair into a little baby faux hawk and the rest of it just hangs in there, poofing and fluffing and doubling in size, despite its outer edges being crispy and crunchy from the gel. Then, about halfway through the day I get so annoyed with it and so overcome by hair claustrophobia that I have to pull it back and get it entirely out of my way. And it sucks.
What’s a girl to do? I can’t straighten it, which is really the only chance I have to make it do anything different. It’ll frizz out in moments and be a half an hour that I could have been sleeping. I can’t just leave it down–the faux hawk is the only thing standing in the way of me and frizzy little fly aways (well, mostly).
The result? At least 3 times a week I complain to Boo about how much I hate my hair and how I’m going to shave it and how I hope he still loves me when he sees me looking like I walked off the set of The Bald and the Beautiful.
Of course, he says he will because Boo is awesome like that. But I’m pretty sure if I pull a Topanga and hack out some of my hair in the hallway (to prove a point, of course) he’ll be wishing that I were still a little poofy head.