The Frizzies
One thing I have always been vain about is my hair. I will spare no expense buying expensive shampoos, conditioners, occasionally getting it re-styled and highlighted, getting it all kinds of little tokens of my affection like cute little barrettes or bun holders or ponytail clasps.
When I was a little girl my daughter's age, my mother used to put quite a bit of ceremony into my hair. Every morning I would have to stand or sit and grin and bear it patiently while she combed it out, every single snag and snarl, and every time I hissed in pain she'd say, "Don't be so soft!" Then she would usually braid it for me, twin braids. I loved my braids. My hair was truly a thing of beauty in those days. Hair dryers or toxic cosmetic products hadn't touched it yet, so it was shiny, natural, soft and smooth and beautiful. One of the most heinous things my mother ever did to me was marching me to the hairdresser one day at the end of summer just before junior high. There, for some unknown reason, she instructed the hairdresser to cut it all off up to my neck, so that I looked like the popular figure skater at the time, Dorothy Hamill. It did not suit me. Without my long, beautiful hair, I felt like a boy. I couldn't relax until it grew back, and of course I never let her get me near another hairdresser again.
Then, in my teens, I began to use hair dryers and hair sprays and all sorts of other shit that basically destroyed my hair and brings me to the topic of this latest post. I have suffered from "the frizzies" for many, many years. I spent so much time trying to tame my naturally curly hair and force it to be straight and feathered like Farrah and all those other girls (which of course I never could, for more than two minutes), that it rebelled and just became frizzed. The top of my hair is fine, but the ends are atrocious. I have to get it cut often because when it gets too long you can really see how straggly it is. Do any of you remember Larry from the Three Stooges? I'm sure some of you have seen Albert Einstein. Well, that's what my hair is like, especially on rainy days. These past two weeks in Toronto have been almost unrelentingly damp and drizzly, exactly the type of weather my frizzy hair likes to party in. I've been walking around feeling like a walking ball of fluff.
It's amazing how much time and effort I spend trying to work out my hair issues. I'm always thinking, Maybe if I cut it this way. Maybe I will just have to cut it short, I'm over 40, after all. Hmmm, this stuff says it tames frizzies, conditions them and heals the hair follicle. $12.99? That's not too expensive, not for my hair! Then I try the stuff and it's like everything else ... bullshit. My frizzies have become immune to conditioners and botanicals, much like diseases become immune to antibiotics. But what's a girl to do? I love my hair. I love having it long, even though it may be past its prime.
But these fucking frizzies bug the shit out of me!!!
When I was a little girl my daughter's age, my mother used to put quite a bit of ceremony into my hair. Every morning I would have to stand or sit and grin and bear it patiently while she combed it out, every single snag and snarl, and every time I hissed in pain she'd say, "Don't be so soft!" Then she would usually braid it for me, twin braids. I loved my braids. My hair was truly a thing of beauty in those days. Hair dryers or toxic cosmetic products hadn't touched it yet, so it was shiny, natural, soft and smooth and beautiful. One of the most heinous things my mother ever did to me was marching me to the hairdresser one day at the end of summer just before junior high. There, for some unknown reason, she instructed the hairdresser to cut it all off up to my neck, so that I looked like the popular figure skater at the time, Dorothy Hamill. It did not suit me. Without my long, beautiful hair, I felt like a boy. I couldn't relax until it grew back, and of course I never let her get me near another hairdresser again.
Then, in my teens, I began to use hair dryers and hair sprays and all sorts of other shit that basically destroyed my hair and brings me to the topic of this latest post. I have suffered from "the frizzies" for many, many years. I spent so much time trying to tame my naturally curly hair and force it to be straight and feathered like Farrah and all those other girls (which of course I never could, for more than two minutes), that it rebelled and just became frizzed. The top of my hair is fine, but the ends are atrocious. I have to get it cut often because when it gets too long you can really see how straggly it is. Do any of you remember Larry from the Three Stooges? I'm sure some of you have seen Albert Einstein. Well, that's what my hair is like, especially on rainy days. These past two weeks in Toronto have been almost unrelentingly damp and drizzly, exactly the type of weather my frizzy hair likes to party in. I've been walking around feeling like a walking ball of fluff.
It's amazing how much time and effort I spend trying to work out my hair issues. I'm always thinking, Maybe if I cut it this way. Maybe I will just have to cut it short, I'm over 40, after all. Hmmm, this stuff says it tames frizzies, conditions them and heals the hair follicle. $12.99? That's not too expensive, not for my hair! Then I try the stuff and it's like everything else ... bullshit. My frizzies have become immune to conditioners and botanicals, much like diseases become immune to antibiotics. But what's a girl to do? I love my hair. I love having it long, even though it may be past its prime.
But these fucking frizzies bug the shit out of me!!!
posted by emily pound at 3:51 PM
4 Comments:
I was a strawberry blonde most of my life. I loved my hair color. After I hit 35 my hair started to change. Now my hair is a dull brown and thining no less.
Shave your head! Join us! :)
marsha: I wish I had my "young" hair back. :-)
Ian: LOL
Jennie: I've heard that ... I also heard that washing your hair in mayonnaise and, is it egg whites or egg yolks, was a good thing? Nothing seems to work for my split ends except scissors.
"Mane and Tail Conditioner" works pretty darned well. You get it in the horse section of the pet store and it was a pretty word of mouth kind of trick but now they acknowledge that humans use it too, on the label. You can use it as a rinse out or leave in conditioner. I just rinse out the scalp part and leave a bit on the ends (I have an oily scalp so I don't want anything on there!) It smells nice, it's safe & mild and I can use the same kind I use on my dog (yeah, I know, like that's a recommendation, lol!) It comes in a large bottle and is cheap. Don't fall for expensive is better--I know, I do it too!
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