Some people want to win the lottery for a lot of reasons:
- Purchase a home
- Go on a vacation
- Quit their job(s)
- Pay off loans
- Just have the freedom to buy any and everything they need (or want)
In my “top five” reasons: I would love to have a hairdresser…a hair stylist…someone who is a professional, who knows and understands and can handle my hair “on call” — just a speed dial away.
I’ve been through phases:
- Straightening Perm (long hair)
- Straightening Perm (short hair)
- Straightening Perm (mid-length hair)
- Semi-Perm a.k.a. Texturizer (long hair)
- Semi-Perm a.k.a. Texturizer (short hair)
- Semi-Perm a.k.a. Texturizer (mid-length hair)
- “Natural” (short hair)….This is where I am now.
I can only have so much patience. Here’s the problem: A percentage of us from the “islands” are of mixed heritage, whether in our current generation, or as in my case, in past generations. If you looked at my mother and her sisters, and my female cousins, putting us all in a room and doing a “hair inspection”, the textures are all over the place — on each head! We all seem to complain about our hair. There’s always some challenge.
I’ve had a brush break in my hair. (I am so very serious.) I’ve made a trip to the hair salon only to come straight home and wash that sucker out. I’ve had scaring on my scalp. (Which proved to be extremely painful and required not one but two trips to the dermatologist, who promptly told me my lost hair in the affected areas would never grow back — and it never did.) I’ve experienced the 4-hour hair salon visits on a Saturday. If you’re not familiar with these visits, count your blessings. I couldn’t take those visits anymore. So, I walked away and have been wandering aimlessly ever since — every once in a while finding a hairstylist when necessary.
My current hairstylist of about a year and a half is terrific. But one of my least favorite things to do is to actually go to get my hair done. She’s Dominican (as in, from the Dominican Republic, not Dominica — a totally different island in the Caribbean). She knows how to work with “mixed up” hair. She styles out of her home, so you really get the personal attention you deserve. Things couldn’t be more perfect right?
If I had to calculate the amount of hours over a 10-year period alone, just 10 years, I’m sure I lost a lifetime sitting in a stylist’s chair– not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars between the processes, treatments and products. My last set of products cost me US$160.
So, I’m looking in the mirror last weekend — almost a week ago — in preparation for my EVITA on Broadway experience, and after giving my hair a “treatment”, I just sighed, stared and thought:
My hair is a Train. Wreck. I have complete disdain for this thing. (Truth.)
If I won the lottery tomorrow, one of the first things on my list would be to call my stylist, set up “standing” hair appointments for her to come to my (new) home, of course, and make arrangements for her to be “on call”. You have no idea how happy that would make me. I’m seriously smiling as I type because it would be pure bliss.
Why do many women always complain about their hair? Believe me, I don’t spend hours in the mirror looking at myself, but that 3-minute look last weekend was crushing. Should I continue to grow this tragedy on the top of my head out, while being at a loss of what to do with it when I need to look “presentable”, especially within the conservative environment of my office, or simply chop this d*mn thing off?
There are a number of Websites, blogs and YouTube channels out there for women of color (black, latino, asian, multi-racial…you name it). They all want you to “love your hair”, but there’s no love coming from where I’m standing.
I’m not the least bit interested in “dreads”. I don’t care for braids (I did that as a child and hated the hours of sitting and pulling of hair strands). And, I’m not sold on weaves. (But if this keeps up, I’m one step closer to be sold. Trust me.)
I’m this close to giving up. Chime in ladies and gents, I’m on the edge.
P.S. I’m about 10 weeks overdue for a visit to my hair stylist. I’m sure she’s wondering where I am.