I Am Not My Hair

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I’ve been having some shitty ass hair days lately.

Clearly illustrated in Exhibit A – aka the photo taken yesterday.

I’m the one down there on the left. In case you are all hopped up on Jameson’s and can’t tell.

Thank god the type of hair day you are having doesn’t determine your mood 100% of the time. Because I would have been a grump the entire Columbus Day weekend.

Anyway, doesn’t my hair look all flat and bored? Or boring.

Point is… when I was a little girl, my hair was always neat. And clean. And perfect. And never a concern.

Years later, I’m tired of even the 30 minute blow drying sessions with my hair stylist who I think recently quit me because I missed an appointment or two.

I gave up on blow drying my own hair years ago and realized I need to pay a professional so I can leave my house with hair worth having.

My hair outside of work is styled the same way year after year. Straight down, middle part.

I think I fear hair change of any kind – even the simplest change. I already know I’m terrified to color my hair. And since I made the mistake of cutting it a few inches too much a couple of weeks ago, even another hair cut may not be in my near future.

The whole idea of Hair Thursday would be wasted on me because I’d be given a look and would never pull the trigger on it.So I’m left with hair I want to put up, pull back and never let down because I ask myself “What the F— Happened”  every time I look in the mirror.

After seeing the Chris Rock documentary, Good Hair, I realize I don’t take my hair seriously — at all! — like some women. (And that’s not just because I would never consider wearing a hair weave or putting one on layaway because it cost a few thousand dollars.)

I’m laid back when it comes to these multi-shade of brown (with some white mixed in!) strands on top of my head. And I don’t care if someone touches my hair. Except for that woman who came up to me, touched my hair and then asked me if my hair was really mine but that’s a whole different thing I suppose. Oh wait, and the stylist at CBS who put his hands through my hair and said “OMG its real, what are you?” They annoyed me just a tad.

I don’t think having a different hair length would make me more interested in my hair. I don’t have a face for short hair. Or the courage to sport a hairdo that isn’t at least shoulder length.

Although chopping away a few inches would mean probably I’d have less time consuming hair care and hair style thoughts.

But then there would also go blog filler for days when I shouldn’t blog about the other things on my mind. J

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Next stop… Going to court, a school interview, the Reebok cupcake walk with Jill Zarin and an event (forgot what!) at the Empire Hotel tomorrow. Skipping the premiere of Where the Wild Things Are to make sure I’m home in time for the changing of the guards.

Car SongHair (musical)
“Flow it, show it Long as God can grow it My hair”


  1. says

    You are so funny! I am so with your blog title. I’ve had my hair cut very short to having it grow mid-back – and it’s all good.

    Isn’t it funny when people from other cultures ASSUME that you have a weave? I remember one of my (really great) White girlfriends running her fingers through my hair saying, “Oh, I just love your weave.” I informed her that Black women could have long hair without weaves (I’ve never worn one) and warned her to NEVER do that to another Black woman…(unless she had a death wish) – ha!

  2. says

    I totally know what you mean. Priorto Baby Boy I use to love experimenting with length and color. Post Baby Boy I don’t have the time for maintenance but crave some variety.