Originally posted 5/14/09
Ok. So I am that mom that always has my hair in a bun. Not because I don’t have time to do anything else but because I don’t have the patience to deal with it any other way. You see I have naturally curly hair that everyone tells me they want but if they knew what came with it they would rethink that opinion. Even my stylist refused to cut my hair saying it was soooo cute and perfect. The thing is I can’t stand the curl. It looks poofy, messy. You have to understand I have been having the fight of the poof since grade school. So it goes in a bun. And even then I will obsess about every little bump every little piece of hair that fell out of place. I can’t even stand a ponytail as in it can start looking bushy and I just can’t have that. So I force the torrent of my hair into a tight, little neat bun with at least one maybe sometime two scrunchies. Oh yes the scrunchie. I have one stashed everywhere. In my car, the bathroom, bedrooms, basement, and even the garage. This obsession with perfectly placed hair makes its so that after I drop $50 at the salon, I walk out to the car, grab my scrunchie and up it goes. So after my daughter was born was born I decided I needed a change. Easy option. I added bangs. Great, I add a new dimension to my face and I still have the trusty bun. Ok go to one year later and I still have bangs but I am getting the pull. You know. I look in the mirror and I am just not liking what I am seeing. The solution…haircut. And I mean, haircut. chopped liked 6 inches off. The problem…the curl. Ok so I put it back up into a bun (well kind of. Wasn’t long enough) But you know what. There was freedom in the shortness. The weight, Gone. Gobs of shampoo, conditioner, gel, gone. So pondering what I should do a coupon for a half-price coupon for a higher-end salon. So I called and made an appt. After meeting the stylist I told her what I wanted and bless her soul she did it and I hated it. It was short and chic and I know she was telling me the truth that it was ultra cute but all I saw was fluff and poof. But I couldn’t admit it was cute. After much going back and forth and a slap across the head (my head by the way) I realized something. I was a scrunchie addict. As she was trying to curl and shape and was reaching up and pushing down. She pulled out a curler for a tamer look and all I could do was push it behind my ear. All I wanted to do was pick up my scrunchie and push all of that hair into it. But, a part of me liked it but my other half. The half of me that longs for control and sanity. The half that remembers the teasing of other kids because of my hair being so poofy was screaming NOOOOOOOO. So I have made a vow For the next week I am not wearing a scrunchy. I am going to embrace what God gave me and may He have mercy upon my soul.