I Am Not My Hair.

hair_1As a little girl my Mom kept my hair as long as she possibly could.

My second grade school picture my long straight black hair is down to my waist.

I hated every minute of this long hair situation. Mostly because my Mom treated my head like it was not attached to any nerve endings.

When I was in fifth grade I decided I wanted a perm.

My mom appeased this, and The Older Cousin and I sat at a Fantastic Sams with curling chemicals applied to our heads watching Poltergeist.

Most people assume I have always had curly hair, but honestly I got my curly hair after my perm. It was like the perm just never went away.

My hair dresser entourage thinks this is crazy talk, and I must have had some hormonal spike in hair that makes the situation coincidental.

Part of me wants to take Lady Baby for a perm at 10 to see if it changes her hair texture forever.

The following year I asked my Mom if I could cut my hair.

She like most people thought I meant take a few inches off, maybe get a bob, but what I meant was cut my hair.

She indulged that request, and off my hair went. It looked like a hair cut big bird would have if he took human form. Life before flat irons was terrible.

It eventually grew out and I kept it long and curly till senior year..

Then I cut it regular girl short, and tried to dye it blonde at home resulting in first leopard like spots, and then full blown orange.

My high school graduation pictures are with orange hair. My Mom wanted to kill me.

When OG was 6 months old I again lopped all my hair off. Leaving a heavy bang but other then that it was man length. I grew that out until I recently had the burning desire to resurrect that hair cut.

I was supposed to be growing it to mermaid length for my second wedding in a few years, but man if one more person said

“Oh wow Janika you’re hair is so long!”

I was going to drown puppies.

So I started asking myself why I was really growing it out.

I don’t like long hair. It’s boring, and I am no sissy about a hair cut.

I went into my hair appointment for a root color, but told my friend a few days before I was thinking of chopping it off.  She did her best to talk me out of it. Maybe we just cut some layers lighten it up, do something a little new.

I am not one for small changes.

Go big or go home.

Girls are always so afraid to cut their hair, as if it won’t grow back.

It will make them look fat, ugly, manly, gross, exposed whatever crazy idea they have.

But it is just hair.

India Arie said it best.

“I am not my hair

I am not this skin

I am the soul that lives within.”

I want Lady Baby to never be afraid of something as foolish as a hair cut.

Besides, only the fiercest girls have short hair.

photo (9)
that bottom right picture The Hubbs was trying to look like a creeper on purpose. I swear.







On Key

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