I have crazy hair. It is not chocolate, hazel or chestnut. It is brown. The curls are unmanageable and have a mind of their own. In the spots above my ears it it kinky and frizzy, but the canopy on top and back are wavy at the roots then form ringlets at the bottom. In the mornings I look in the mirror and scream at the bride-of-Frankenstein effect that takes place while I sleep. It takes a lot of hair gel to tame my Mufasa mane.
Every so often I feel the need to conform and I straighten my curls. First I blow-dry my hair until it is as fluffy and soft as down. It acquires a radius of about ten inches and forms a sphere around my head that glows in the light. If I have a good straightener it takes about fifty minutes to flatten and smooth out the poofy curls. I don't straighten my hair that often because I hate getting the compliments.
“Camille!” everyone says. “Your hair is straight.”
“Yeah,” I say and flip it over one shoulder. What I actually want to say is, “No kidding? I didn't even notice.”
“Wow,” they continue. “I didn't even recognize you. It looks so good.”
Normally a genuine compliment is flattering and lifts my self-esteem. In this case, however, I never know what I should think. When they say my hair looks good, are they implying that it doesn't every other day? Do I only look acceptable when I straighten my hair? After a few days I get sick of it. I miss my curls. I jump in the shower and let the water spring my hair back into action.
When I was younger it made me so mad when all the old ladies would pull on one of my curls and let it spring back into place.
“I always wish I had curly hair like yours,” they would say. Perhaps I am becoming an old lady myself, because today I am glad I have it.
1 comment:
Oh dear. I am one of those people. The givers of unwanted compliments.
Camille - you look beautiful everyday. And that's what I think.
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