I’ve always been a little obsessed with hair. What makes a hairstyle good, what makes a hairstyle work? And what doesn’t? This is probably because as long as I can remember, people commented on my hair. As a kid – “oh those curls! You don’t know how lucky you are! People pay a lot of money for hair like that.” As I got older, “I’m gonna call you fraggle rock, because your hair is so big and frizzy.” True story. The name stuck through most of sixth and seventh grades. I experimented with straightening my hair, which elicited a lot of “wow, your hair looks awesome. you look like a different person.” Um, thank you? I think. And I’ve cut it short, dyed it red, cut bangs, and had a keratin treatment three years ago, that was supposed to wear off in six months. I’m still fighting the effects in certain random spots.
I feel like my hair is one of my defining features. I don’t always have a good hairstyle, I admit that. Probably my trademark, go-to hair style, simply because its easy, is a curly, messy top knot. I feel like I can work that look on most days, but there are times when I admit I look trife-trife. The frizzy tendrils, the flat knotty texture. And I don’t usually wear much make up, so there are days when I startle myself in the mirror. Bleh. I’ve fought my curls for a lot of my life. Not that I hate them. I don’t. They’re a blessing and a curse. But I’ve learned that my hair looks best when I work with it instead of against it. Of course, the easiest way to do that is to open my drawer chock-full of products and define the curls. Just wash or condition, apply product of the moment, and air dry. I can also straighten it, and even curl for big voluminous polished waves. As long as I embrace my texture, and allow for some movement and waves and body in the style, it’ll be fine. And of course – ALWAYS check the weather forecast before investing too my time in my style. Oh, you were going for Victoria’s Secret angel-style waves? 90% humidity today, girlfriend. Fuggitaboutit.
Why the deep thoughts on hair? It’s just hair. Outward appearance. It doesn’t say a single thing about who a person is on the inside. And I realize as I type these words, that they may seem insensitive. There are people that are losing their hair to awful diseases and the treatments that go with them. People I care about. This is only my experience. My emotional attachment to my hair. When Malcolm’s curls began to grow in, I felt a pride in my own curls that I had never felt before. For the first time, probably ever, my hair style wasn’t strictly driven by laziness or fashion. I felt like it was a way I could connect to my son. We don’t share any DNA. He didn’t get those curls from me, and we certainly don’t look alike in our build, facial features, eye color, or skin tone. Yet we share these curls. These thick luscious, unruly curls. And I’m proud of that. I don’t ever expect to be mistaken for his biological mother, and I’m proud of the fact that he is adopted. I forget half the time anyway, as our love and affection just comes so naturally. But I just love that we share this. I always want Malcolm to be proud of his biology, and embracing his natural hair texture is a part of that. What example would I set if I constantly fought my own curls, yet encouraged him to love his? Or worse yet, if I cropped his hair short to avoid the hassle? There will definitely be a day when he wants to cut his hair short. Boys tend to wear their hair for function more than fashion, but as long as he’ll let me, we’re gonna rock our curly hair together. And look damn good doing it.
Murf and Brit 