Crowning Glory

I was born bald. When my hair finally grew, it was very fair. I now have dark hair. My mum often mentions that I was her fairest child and yet I am now her darkest.

But hair colour is not what this post is about.

Some of you know me as she of the curly hair. If you fall into this category, you probably went to school with me or knew me before I turned 17. Many of you have no idea I have curly hair.

My hair is curly. And very frizzy. Over the years, I have subjected my hair to several treatments in an attempt to make it less so. All to no avail. My hair remains curly, which technically I could live with. But to my horror, it has also remained frizzy.



Cute on a (grumpy!!) kid, not so great on an adult.

Washing my hair is a huge event. Wet hair will always be followed by approximately 45 minutes of drying time. My hair gets tugged and pulled and straightened to within an inch of it's life so that I can, until the next time I need to wash it (or the next time I forget an umbrella when it rains), pretend that it is actually naturally not frizzy. It is for this reason that hair washing needs to be planned. Scheduled. It can not simply happen on an ad hoc basis.

I could never be a person who washes her hair every day. It would eat into my week too dramatically. This has, over my lifetime, impacted things that anyone else may never think of, like exercising. There was a time when I was getting into running quite a bit. Part of me would have gladly gone out running every evening. I loved it and the time it gave me to be out, feeling the wind against my face and just enjoying my own company. But alas, a good run works up a sweat. After which I would need a head-to-toe shower. Problem.

I won't lie: it's not the first time I've gone to bed with a sweaty head. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to deal with my hair.

I hate that I am not able to walk in the rain without a care in the world. I hate that rain turns me into a fretful "must cover my hair lest it detects humidity" bimbo.

There are times when I attempt to "wash & go". Each time, I hope that maybe - just maybe - my curls have been visited by the frizz fairy and they will magically look like this once dry (that's the closest image I could find to what my hair might look like sans frizz). Or that something clicks in my head and I am suddenly able to look at myself in the mirror and not care. Each time, I regret it. The frizz fairy is about as real as the tooth fairy and my hair still thinks it's a bona fide Jackson Five hairstyle. And I still hate it.

(I should clarify at this point that "wash & go" in my case should not be taken literally. It involves a plethora of sprays, creams, lotions and potions that I have tried over the years. Some things have worked for a few weeks. But ah, my hair is smarter than that.)

Is there a point to all this? No. I simply needed to vent. Because at this point - even carrying an extra 30lbs that I am desperate to lose - if you had to ask me what I'd change about myself, I may stop to think about it, but ultimately I know that my answer would be my hair. I would give anything not to have this silent dictator seemingly ruling my everyday life. /rant