Every day I wake up, shower, and attempt to tame the mass of hair on my head. Leave-in conditioner, leave-in conditioner SPRAY, gel, smoothing serum. Those of you with curls can relate. Those of you with straight hair can just sit there quietly and stop basking in the ease of your morning ritual.
I SAID STOP IT!!!!
ARE you through? MAY I continue now?
So like I said. I am having a hair crisis. I have this constant inner battle. Between my annoyance with growing my hair and my desire for it to be long. I trim it, clean the ends up, get it all ready to grow. Then, like clockwork, six weeks later I am itchy to do something to it. Cut it. Dye it. Something. But since I’m kind of in love with my color I always end up chopping it.
Another reason I usually spring for the cut is that I get frustrated by wearing my hair the same way EVERY SINGLE DAY! Curly hair + humidity = frizz and poof. Frizz and poof + workplace and sense of acting “professional” = faux hawk and (if not right away, definitely by lunch) ponytail. Do you know boring that is? Very boring. Some mornings I even get up way early, plug in my curly iron and try to twist those little guys into something workable.
But I can’t do this every day. I can’t live with the stress. The frustration of a perfect hair day shot to shit the second I step outside. So I made a decision. I live in New York City dammit and I can find anyone to do anything I could ever need. So I found a curl specific salon. And I did it. I booked an appointment. I have a wedding to attend in a few weeks that also includes a weekend at the House of Boo (read: the boyfriend’s parents) so I need to spruce up a bit.
Then something happened. The SAME thing that happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I book a hair appointment–even if I only just decide to book one and don’t actually get around to booking it. My hair starts to behave. It’s miraculous. The curls are all uniform and perfect. Any amount of product, even on days when I skimp, seems to be exactly the right amount. And instead of fading and drooping halfway through the day, my curls stay bouncy and wonderful for the whole day. It’s as if my hair KNOWS that a cut is imminent and it is trying to change my mind.
Don’t cut me Lauren, you’ll lose all this pretty curl. Don’t cut me Lauren, you’ll regret it.
And now I’ve started to panic. Maybe I will regret it, I think. Maybe, instead of my curls just sproinging properly, they will ‘fro out to volumes never before seen, rendering all my product skills unusable and my appearance unmanageable. Maybe they will cut layers so awkward that one bad weather day will have people thinking I previously resided in a trailer park in mid-Kentucky (read: mullet).
But I have to relax. I have to remember that before Wednesday, when I finally booked this appointment, my hair was deserving of MANY a time out for its bad behavior. And I have to trust that these people are professionals. This isn’t Supercuts. This is an entire salon devoted to curls. And it’s in a city that attracts people from all over for it’s, well, skill with making people look good.
I have to relax. I have to put down the gel and hand over the scissors.