Three words: Heirloom Dishwashing Liquid. This fine specimen of liquified soap, with which one might cleanse the scum and villainy off of one's dishes – indeed, both fine china AND...
Many things have been said about my hair over the years (famously, “your hair is like baling wire!“), mostly by me, disparaging it and others telling me it’s awesome and me telling them yeah, well you don’t have to live with/care for/maintain it, blah blah blah.
Lately I’m trying really hard to make peace with it. It’s returned to its natural texture (no more chemical straighteners for me), I’m putting less crap in it (i.e. “product,” also known as copious quantities of mousse, gel, and stiffening spritz (thus the baling wire comment)), and I’m trying to just let it do its natural thing.
It’s natural thing is to get BIG and CURLY. I have always been embarrassed by my Amazonian proportions, and when you’re six feet tall AND have giant hair, you’re not going to easily fly under the radar. So I’ve tried to keep it tied back, straightened, ensmallened – anything to make me less noticeable.
But I’m tired. Too old and tired anymore to fight it every single day.
So it’s doing its thing now. And I’m trying to be zen about it and accept the fact that perhaps it does make me look bigger, but at least if I, say, meet an angry bear in the forest, I have a better chance of looking big and scary and thus frightening off said angry bear.
Yesterday Jamieson put his arms around all my hair, gathered it up, buried his face in it, and said “WOW, it’s so DARK in here!” That boy cracks me up.