Archnemesis

Through the years I have had many, many haircuts, colors and styles, but one thing has stayed consistent: my hair is my archnemesis.  I got my first perm (a disaster) when I was ~8 years old and my hair has since seized every opportunity to defy me. While other children in my 3rd grade class were dreaming about growing up to be doctors, lawyers, and astronauts, I just dreamed about one day getting my hair under control. It’s really all I ever wanted.

There are a few topics we just don’t discuss in my family. One of them is my 8th grade prom and the hairstyle I wore. Really the only thing I remember about my 8th grade prom was my hair & I have no words when I look at those pictures.  No words.  Just lots of resentment towards my mother (ha!!!  just kidding, Mama!).  We don’t discuss the teased bangs from 7th & 8th grade, either. In high school my life pretty much revolved around my hair. I bowed out of dances, ballgames, pool parties, overnight trips, etc, because I just didn’t know what to do with it.  During this time I discovered frost & tip and rollers, the two primary and crucial ingredients for frizz.  Fantastic!

The picture above is an excellent representation of the way I wore my hair in college.  I take full responsibility for the cut and the color was by Mama.

College was a little bit better.  I learned how to scrunch my hair with mousse and I also kept it chin-length most of the time.  Like, literally, I cut my own hair. I know, I know.  When I went to pharmacy school, I was introduced to the wonderful world of professional hair care.  Oh my goodness.  Paul Mitchell, foils (!!!), and ceramic smoothing irons changed my life.  Seriously.  Yes, I still get an afro when my hair air dries and I have a tendency to change the color more than the average person, but compared to the early days (namely my 8th-grade prom), it is a vast improvement.  I have even let my hair grow out after keeping it shoulder-length for years.

 

However, that doesn’t mean that I can ease up and become comfortable.  I just need to be aware that my hair is always looking for a good excuse to defy and humiliate me.  Take this whole recent color fiasco.  In April, I went from blonde –> brunette in hopes of achieving lower-maintenance color:

 

I had hope for this hair color.  I really, really did.  But for some reason my grays do not accept dye, so I ended up with gray streaks.  When I went back for a touch-up, it ended up red and I almost died.  Worse mistake ever.  I’m still paying for it.  Literally.

 

Tonight I went in with this faded gold-ish color:

 

She foiled my hair as usual, washed the color out, blew it dry, and it was the color of Angela on the Office.  Not kidding.  The girl was shocked.  I was shocked.  I told her it was way too light so she put a concoction of several chemicals on it, so when I left it looked like this:

A little closer to normal.

This is summer 2007.  Probably what I am going for.  Or this:

   

What we (me + the girl who does my hair) are so confused about is why my hair has suddenly started growing more than 1 inch per month.  Seriously?  I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I can’t keep up.  I’m wondering if I should just shave it and get a wig.