I have a hard time trusting a girl who has never said, “GOD, I HATE MY HAIR!” It’s almost a rite of passage from girlhood to womanhood to scream to your friends, family, boyfriend, or whomever is within earshot about having the worst head of hair in the history of the world. On the flip side, it sounds so egotistical and uppity to say “Well, my hair is just gorgeous”, so we never really brag about how great our hair is either. We just have to pray and wait for the moment someone drops the “I love your hair compliment,” so you can go into full-brag mode.
Curly-haired ladies fall into this trap on the daily. We rant about our hair, then two seconds later, want to write it a love letter. It’s hard not to gloat when our straight-haired counter-parts comment on how lucky we are to have curly hair. Except, you know, when we’re not. This love-hate relationship is really only something curly-haired girls can truly understand.
Our hair is never boring.
“Ohmygosh, you are soooo lucky. You can literally do whatever you want with your hair.” -Every straight-haired girl ever.
Yes, yes, bow down straight-hair peasants. This is probably the most common compliment we curly-haired girls hear. But in all seriousness, you name it, our hair can do it. Beach waves? Psh. That’s child’s play. Blow-outs? Done. With lush volume and body that makes you look like you’ve stepped straight out of a hair commercial. Curls? Next fuckin’ question. Straight? Yes, after brushing your hair out, setting the straightener at the hottest temperature, angling your chair in just the right way to allow you to see as much of your hair as possible, and providing a small offering to the hair gods, our hair will be straight. It turns into almost a ritual, and if a single step is missed, all is lost.
However, despite its versatility, we usually just throw it up into a bun or ponytail to contain it’s un-boringness. Which brings me to….
Our hair has a mind of its own.
Sure, we may style it so it looks the way we want it to, but that doesn’t mean our hair wants to look that way. We comb, spray, mousse, and even pray that our hair obeys, but if our hair wants to curl back into its initial position, it damn well will. If it does what you want, it’s a direct act of God. More often than not, however, we’re dealing with a entity so stubborn, it makes Stalin look like a pretty easy-going dude.
And let us not forget when our hair meets its mortal enemy humidity! Fuckin’ humidity. Faster than you can say “poofy,” our hair grows 10 times bigger and 20 times frizzier when it comes in contact with its rival. Our hair refuses to back down. So, fuck me for trying to manage the unmanageable on an almost-but-not-quite rainy day. The only thing in control of my tresses is the moisture in the air. I’ll submit and throw it up in a bun or a ponytail, yet again.
We don’t have to brush it.
Excuse me. I misspoke. We can’t brush it, lest we resemble Simba as he emerges from the water. The only time it’s appropriate to brush your hair is when you’re undergoing the aforementioned half-procedure, half-ritual of straightening your hair. Skipping brushing saves time and energy that can be put into more productive activities, like drinking, or drinking. If anything, we comb our hair through lightly, and let Jesus take the wheel. Then we get back to drinking.
Just because we don’t brush our hair, however, doesn’t mean we don’t have about 10,000 brushes and combs. The paddle brush, the round brush, the boar bristle brush — there are as many brushes as there are ways we can wear our hair. Having curly hair means being prepared for anything and everything that could happen.
There’s no such thing as “letting it dry, naturally.”
For every straight-haired girl that is “soooo jealous” of curly-haired girls, I say to you, “Go fuck yourself”. Do you know how much I wish I could just let my hair air-dry with nothing in it?! Whenever I step out of the shower, I rush to my arsenal of hair products so that when it does dry in five hours, it is somewhat tamed.
The absolute worst is when my hair is still wet and I go to bed. 9 out of 10 times, I’ll just throw it up in a bun and call it a night. Then, when I wake up, I have a nice head of slightly damp (because it never fucking dries) hair that resembles a shrub in the front of my yard. Having a “bush” is always a bad thing — having on top of your head makes it exponentially worse.
So, my curly-haired friends, despite the woes of dealing with a true mane, never back down from being the fabulous, fierce, best-tressed girls in the world. Do and extra hair flip or ten, flaunt what you’ve got, and make the rest of the world burn with envy. Just avoid wet hair buns and, for all things holy, humidity. Here’s to never knowing boring hair.