reminisce about hair
I read someone's account of their interaction with their stylist and my mind wandered to the early days of getting my hair done. When I was a kid I had thick ass hair, well it's still pretty thick but now thankfully no one has to comb it. Anyway there came the point where my parents decided to let a professional deal with it and off to the hair dresser I went, I think I was around 12. She did an awesome job, she was gentle, patient, and talked to me in soothing tones the entire time. She even managed to press my hair without burning my ears. Her shop was small and intimant. I loved going to her and felt quite beautiful every time I went. Sadly this was not to be my experience with beauticians after she retired.
Once I changed salons I started hearing how incredibly thick my hair was and what a chore it was to do, from the beauticians being paid to do it. I didn't have a relaxer until I was a few months from my 20th birthday and very few people were thrilled with the prospect of washing, blow drying, and pressing then curling/styling "all that hair". I was often told that I had enough hair for two people even though it wasn't very long, barely brushing my shoulders. I dreaded going to get it done. No one was gentle they just tried to move through it as efficiently as they could and when I complained or flinched I was chided for being tenderheaded, an affliction only acceptable for girls with untangled silky locs.
After getting a relaxer things didn't get better, in fact they went down hill very quickly. My hair started breaking off and after I got married and moved and found another hairdresser I found myself getting increasingly more hair "trimmed". I had always heard that pregnancy was a time that a woman's hair grew like weeds but mine didn't seem to be doing that. Over the 6 years of my marriage and multiple hairdressers I went from should length hair to finally a cesear. but before I decided to cut it all off what kept happening was I would go to a new person and they would tsk about the state of my hair and insist that I needed several inches cut off because of damage inflicted by the last person. No one however suggested that chemical treatments simple did not work well for me, I just kept getting shorter and shorter cuts due to the supposed ineptness of the stylest that went before the current one. On the occasions that I let more than the prescribed 6 weeks pass between relaxers I was roundly admonished because eek how could I go out looking like that, and whew it was going to take forever to get that mess under control. Apparently an inch of new growth is strong enough to bring grown people to their knees. :) Cutting off all my hair was an act of rebel for me but it was also an act of love. Love for myself in shutting out all the voices that had persisted in telling me how my hair was too much and such a mess and had to be tamed and whatever other crazy thing I'd been told. Sometimes I miss that haircut, it was so cute.
Once I changed salons I started hearing how incredibly thick my hair was and what a chore it was to do, from the beauticians being paid to do it. I didn't have a relaxer until I was a few months from my 20th birthday and very few people were thrilled with the prospect of washing, blow drying, and pressing then curling/styling "all that hair". I was often told that I had enough hair for two people even though it wasn't very long, barely brushing my shoulders. I dreaded going to get it done. No one was gentle they just tried to move through it as efficiently as they could and when I complained or flinched I was chided for being tenderheaded, an affliction only acceptable for girls with untangled silky locs.
After getting a relaxer things didn't get better, in fact they went down hill very quickly. My hair started breaking off and after I got married and moved and found another hairdresser I found myself getting increasingly more hair "trimmed". I had always heard that pregnancy was a time that a woman's hair grew like weeds but mine didn't seem to be doing that. Over the 6 years of my marriage and multiple hairdressers I went from should length hair to finally a cesear. but before I decided to cut it all off what kept happening was I would go to a new person and they would tsk about the state of my hair and insist that I needed several inches cut off because of damage inflicted by the last person. No one however suggested that chemical treatments simple did not work well for me, I just kept getting shorter and shorter cuts due to the supposed ineptness of the stylest that went before the current one. On the occasions that I let more than the prescribed 6 weeks pass between relaxers I was roundly admonished because eek how could I go out looking like that, and whew it was going to take forever to get that mess under control. Apparently an inch of new growth is strong enough to bring grown people to their knees. :) Cutting off all my hair was an act of rebel for me but it was also an act of love. Love for myself in shutting out all the voices that had persisted in telling me how my hair was too much and such a mess and had to be tamed and whatever other crazy thing I'd been told. Sometimes I miss that haircut, it was so cute.
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