Hair grows. (no.15)

Post #15

“We don’t value people based on looks.”

That’s the mantra I repeat to my daughter. It’s likely a case of do what I say, not what I do.

It’s true looks don’t matter in terms of our self worth, our value is not based on a number on a scale or the brand of jeans we wear.

And how we choose to dress and style our hair is a form of self-expression. It tells the world something about who we are, whether we like it or not.

I have a lifetime of over identifying with my hair.  I was blessed with a decent head of hair, not too straight, not too curly, takes color well.  My daughter has my same hair, only darker.  

Because of this over identification, there have been times over the years, when I have over reacted a time or two when my desired hair didn’t turn out as I’d envisioned.

And by over reacted, I mean, full on melt down, the world is ending. It’s humorous in retrospect, while it was anything but at the time.

The mere thought of cutting or coloring my own hair brings instant anxiety, too many horrid mistakes that professionals had to rectify.

I thinking bangs seemed like a good idea in 5th grade-- you know about 5 minutes before I had to leave for school—I misjudged the length and wound up with this one inch fangs sticking straight out of the top of my head. It was hideous. Nothing to do but to walk to school in shame, full on mortification. It was the first of many what seemed like hair melt downs.

Yet, I would continue to experiment on my hair almost always to what felt like disastrous results. Clearly. I had hair amnesia so I started to write these mean notes to myself.

Dear Idiot,

The next time you decide to give yourself bangs, DON’T!

You are not a hairstylists, you have no formal training and you are never allowed to touch your hair again.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING SO STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!

It’s a bad idea. Walk away from your hair.

Signed Miserable again,

Tasha

The notes were always so dramatic. So life and death.
I find it quite humorous looking back at how serious I took my hair, considering now how little attention I give my poor hair.  

I remembering spending a good 40 minutes styling my hair before school in Jr. High and High School.

Voted best hair or something ridiculous.  Lord help me. You need to see these pics. It was the 80’s, far too much Aqua net.

I developed this technique of spraying my hair while it was still in the curling iron so I could get it extra high.

My friends were always quite impressed, asking me about my technique.

Maybe it’s one of those things, only age can offer. It was well into my late 30’s for me to realize how ridiculous I was being about my hair.  After another bad haircut, my good friend, John said to me with a very straight face, “you know, Tasha, hair grows.”

Obviously, I’m not an idiot, I know that but it hadn’t really sunk it how much I was making out of something so temporary something so inconsequential in the grand scheme of life.

And that was it, I never fretted over hair again. Well, until….

My daughter came home from school asking for blue hair.

I am not the mom who does all these fancy hair styles on her daughter. I feel like we are winning if she’s brushed her hair that day for school.  If we’re being super fancy we might throw it in a pony tail, headband or simple barrette.  

Her papa on the other hand, is quite certain he was a professional hair dresser in another life, they are constantly trying out all these new dos on her.

A big reason I don’t spend a lot of time on her hair is, I believe hair is not worth fighting over.

Lord, I remembering fighting with my mom about brushing my hair and I noticed early on, that same pattern was beginning to emerge with us.  

Sure, I love the end result but the cost is too high.  Her papa is willing to bribe or threaten her to get her to sit so some masterpiece can unfold. I am not.

So back to blue hair.

She got this idea she wanted blue tips put into her hair. I may have experimented from a dark auburn to a platinum blonde with my own hair, but I was never into the funk scene with wild colors. I didn’t give her desire much credence.

She kept bringing it up.  And this is child who doesn’t make a ton of requests. So when she really wants something she becomes like a bull dog not willing to let go.

I spoke to a few of my friends and they had dyed their daughters hair blue as well--all on their own.

I was warming up to the idea of hiring a professional.  

We went to see a stylist, she said it could take 6-8 hours to just dye the tips because her hair is so dark. My daughter is not going to sit still for 6 hours getting her hair done. I can barely sit for 2 hours for my own hair.

There had to be another way.

How hard can it be right?

I mean, hair stylist only train 1-2 years, so I’m sure I could learn it in a couple of you tube tutorials.

Hair amnesia….right.

I kept pushing back the date. The start of 3rd grade was upon us and she was determined to make it happen.  

We did a test spot in the back of her head the day before school. First I have to bleach her hair blonde to get it to take the blue. It turned 2-3 shades of lighter brown but certainly not blonde.

Fail.

We tried again the next day. I grabbed a bunch of foils like I’ve seen done in the salon and with patience of a hungry baby, I just started slapping the bleach all over her tips, not measuring, far more than the 2 inches we all agreed. I’m lazy, sloppy, far from precise.  I put the foil pieces on top of her head where the bleach spilled out and in only a few seconds bleached the top of her head 2-3 shades lighter.

I was so stressed out. This was not fun. I was certain I was going to destroy my darlings hair for picture day. I was certain I was going to mess it up, like all the times I screwed up my own hair. I was agitated,  riddled with anxiety. I was a hot mess.

We let the bleach sit for two hours. Checking in about every 30 minutes, like the stylist would check mine. I never knew how they knew when it was done, but it’s clear, you can see the hair change color.

I told Cora,  “I wished I paid closer attention to all the times I got my hair done instead of having my head buried in a book or magazine”.

I was clearly making it up as I went along.

The beach was done, now her tips were blonde.  I had no idea if needed to blow dry it before adding the blue, or if I could leave it wet. I think I was too impatient to finish any of the youtube tutorials.

I blow dried  her hair, just to be safe, added cyan blue. Her ends were so fried and dry, they drank up every drop of color blue. I gave the most to the big pieces in the front. The back definitely could have used a whole other tube.

We let the blue sit for 60 minutes. And she wanted to get in the shower on her own and wash her hair. So she could do a big reveal.

And what do you know….it looks awesome!!!

I did it, we did it.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. It actually looked good, not $300 salon good, but definitely $30 Sally DIY good.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my baby so happy. So proud of her hair, her form of self expression. Her way to stand out, to do something different.

As I was driving her to school for picture day, I thought “3rd grade is too young to dye your hair blue”, maybe, maybe not.

But I do know, it’s never too young to learn, hair grows.

Our hair doesn’t make or break us, but damn if our attitude does.