You’d think we would be old friends by now. At the very least, we’d understand one another.
Not a chance.
I’ve been trying to get to know you and your idiosyncrasies for years. It started way back in 8th grade when I perm’ed you. (It was the early 90’s.)
And the perm fell out.
No really. Beautiful bouncing curls. No washing of chemicals for a day and a half. And they fell out.
I should have learned at that moment.
My mom took me back to the salon three days later and they perm’ed you again. This time the perm sort of took. Alas, we weren’t going for the dreadlock look.
No seriously, you did resemble dreadlocks unless I was actively brushing you.
Then we got along a little better in high school. I left you long and highlighted. No muss, no fuss. I embraced the straightness of you.
College came. I let you grow until you gave me migraines with your weight. I cut you from my waist to my chin. Getting shorter and shorter until you were an inch and a half long….and platinum blonde.
Then I decided to make you pink. First, bubble gum, pink streaks. Which you didn’t care for and promptly let wash out.
Again. Did I learn?
I decided to cover all of you in hot, hot pink. I fused retinas on the backs of eyeballs of people that had to look at me. Well for a little while. Then you let most of that pink wash out.
Not all of it, mind you. You got your revenge with the small pink yarmulke back there.
I relented and let you grow out. We got along for a while. You even seemed to like the Mary Jane red I dyed you.
You didn’t want to let go of that. I tried to take you back to your beautiful, natural, caramel blonde color.
Nope. You didn’t want to let go. So I made the hair dresser bleach you three times in one sitting. And you were still slightly pink.
But you retaliated for that lapse of judgment on my part. I was lucky you didn’t fall out. You just decided that you had had enough.
I waited a few months again. And tried to make all of you the same color, instead of platinum ends and caramel blond roots.
I ended up with dark ashy roots and platinum ends. You refused to soak up any more color. You were tired and fried.
I waited a few more weeks until I could cut off all the platinum ends. And dyed you a dark ashy blonde/brown color. You looked really pretty. Finally!!!!
We seemed to have come to some sort of an agreement.
Then I tried to go the natural shampoo route. I tried Apple Cider Vinegar. You stank and hung crisply for everyone to see.
I gave that one up fast.
Then I let you grow out and decided, when you were covering me like a winter blanket in one of the hottest summers and while I was pregnant, to donate you to some child who would be better served by you.
We were free and floating in the breeze. That was another nice time together.
I tried the natural-ish shampoo route again. This time using an actual store bought shampoo but sulfate free. We did okay with that. I even gave up conditioner. Well mostly. Every now and then you still demand it.
Finally we are where we are today. I wash you every other day. You don’t get crazy greasy and you actually let me style you somewhat.
I feel our relationship is better than ever.
When I left the house, you looked great.
Now I have a weird kink in you and I look like a goddamn cockatoo.
What the fuck hair?!?!?!
Please tell me this is just a passing fancy and that we really are BFF’s.