The story of a haircut


Have you ever been this frustrated with your hair?

Days like today make me want to repeat the action I took several years ago, when I couldn’t take dealing with my hair anymore. Seven years later, here I am, still struggling with it in an even deeper level. What did I do wrong to deserve this hair?

What I did with my hair was similar to Britney Spears’ famous instance of head shaving, but not so close. By the way, who shaves their head just for attention or to piss off someone? Whatever her reason was, I don’t care. All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t even playing around scissors if my hair was like hers. There’s an expression in Spanish that states “La suerte de la fea, la bonita la desea,” which basically means that pretty girls wish they had the luck of ugly girls. I know; it probably still doesn’t make any sense to you. That’s because the explanation goes even farther in Spanish—it is like a follow up expression of another expression. But I’m not trying to go there. Anyway, my point is that the whole Britney’s hair situation and my situation reminded me of that expression. Not that I’m saying she’s ugly at all. But had she been happy at the moment, like I was, that occurrence would’ve never been.

Going back to my own near-head-shaving experience, I can only say that it was one of the dumbest ideas I had ever had about my hair. The year was 2003 and I had just returned from studying abroad in Europe. My friend, who was thankfully my roommate, was the only person doing my hair for the entire time that I was living there. Sometimes she couldn’t, so I had to improvise. I remember being so frustrated over the fact that prices at hair salons there were extremely cheap, but hairdressers didn’t know how to deal with my type of hair. They didn’t tell me that (of course) and I never asked, but I just know. I did take advantage of waxing prices while there. It was the first time that I had a body area waxed, other than my eyebrows, and I really liked the aftermath. The type of wax they used was good stuff, too. My struggles with hair are figuratively prehistoric, I would say.

A new “hairstyle” is born

So when I came back home, to the U.S., I was sick and tired of my hair. I wanted a new color, a new do…I just wanted my natural hair to grow out. One night at home, after everyone was sleeping, I decided to end my hair’s life right and there. There was no way that I was going to wait until the next day to go to my hair dresser. I wanted to take care of it myself that night and I did. I grabbed a pair of scissors, held my hair up in a ponytail, and chopped the thing. My hair was straight that night, so it didn’t look bad at all after I cut it. In fact, it looked as if I had just gotten a professional haircut.

The next day, washing it in the shower was so easy. It was nothing I had experienced before that time: short hair. My natural hair color and curls were out. I was very happy with my decision—until it dried out and I had a small Afro! I didn’t know how to manage it because it was so short. The only way to keep it looking half decent was by applying a load of conditioner or gel on it. I tried blow-drying it myself and it didn’t work. But thinking back, I know that I just had the wrong hair dryer…and the wrong cut.

After all failed, I paid a visit to my hair dresser and her facial expression was priceless. I think she laughed for hours. But inside she wanted to kill me. She tried to give my hair an actual style to diminish the awful appearance. So thank to her I was able to better deal with that mistake. I have said many times that I would never do that again, but then again I have said many times that I would that again if my hair continues to give me trouble. And today, it is one of those days.