I love my curly hair but it does not always love me. Here’s a few things me and every one of my curly comrades have had to come to terms with at some point in our lives:
1. There’s always going to be a hair out of place. Always. No matter what you do, it isn’t all going to stay the way you fixed it. Just because a hair is curling the right way now is no guarantee that it won’t be going the opposite direction the moment you turn your back. No amount of hairspray can prevent this.
2. Normal blow drying is OUT. My hair reacts to a blow dryer kind of like a cat’s fur reacts to danger: by standing on end. Which means unless you enjoy getting up 2 hours before you leave in the morning, your hair is going to still be wet when you show up at work. And people will assume you are a slob. It’s better than the alternative, however, which is…
3. Giant, Unconquerable, Man-Eating Frizz! I have had unintentional fros that would put a young Michael Jackson to shame.
4. It’s very difficult to cut right. Cutting curly hair can be such an intricate process, especially if it’s as thick as mine is. Layers upon layers are involved, not to mention the difficulties that come from trying to decide how long each curl will be once it’s less weighted down. This situation is not helped by the fact that I do not speak the same language as most hair stylists. I’ve tried to learn their lingo but it’s like they’re purposefully trying to make me feel inferior.
A few months back The Best Friend (and fellow curly hair-wrangler) started gushing to me about what I can only describe as a curly hair cult. She was so excited about Deva stylists, Deva products, and Deva philosophies, I simply had to give it a shot.
Of course it is DC so I ended up paying a fantastically high amount to get my hair cut and colored, but the results were awesome. I loved the salon, loved my stylist, and loved the way she cut my hair. She spent a few minutes staring and prodding at the tangled web of frizz my hair had become and then started cutting it dry, one curl at a time. It was fascinating – and terrifying. Instead of being intimidating, the place has a funky, comfortable feel to it. The experience was so great that I only died a little bit inside when they gave me the bill. She cut it so well that I think I can save some money by stretching out the time between appointments.
It’s been a few weeks and my curls have finally adjusted to Deva’s hair stuff*. As expected, there were a few very bleak weeks right after I started using No-Poo (I’ll pause here to give you a minute to laugh at that name…yes it is quite funny…okay moving on) in which my hair morphed into a giant grease pit. We’re talking dark, clumpy, and slimy. I was going to do this really funny bit where I showed you a picture with the caption “This is my hair on poo” and another with the caption “This is my hair on no-poo” but really no one should be exposed to that level of ick.
I just realized this is one of my longest posts ever. In view of how unobsessed with my hair I consider myself to be that is pretty disturbing. I’m going to stop now.
Update: Apparently if I’m going to talk about my new haircuit, a photo is required. Coincidently this is the one my amazingly talented roommate The Tangential One used to design my new masthead.