A bad hair day is pretty much a daily occurrence in my life. I will literally go to bed with fabulous hair–perfectly curled at the ends, perfectly side swept across my forehead–and wake up looking like I got electrocuted during the night. I cannot even begin to describe the despair when I see the mess atop my visage. It is very intense.
Because I typically take showers at night, I suppose my smushed coif is just par for the course. After a night of tossing and turning, it’s really no surprise my hair resembles the loofa hanging on my shower hook! Needless to say, I have become used to my daily battle with the brush. I sigh heavily, wet a comb, re-syle and most of the time it’s fine. But unlike some people who manage to do their daily activities without touching a hair brush once, I take two steps and my hair is a tousled mess! And I do not have the kind of hair that looks good “tousled.” I have the kind of hair that looks “ridiculous.” So I usually have to brush it when I get into work and then anytime I make any sudden movements.
However, the other day just happened to be a day that I didn’t really have time to check on my hair after getting to work, and a quick peek at my reflection in the vending machine assured me that it looked fine. An hour later however, I walked into the bathroom and literally gasped at my reflection. The strands I had so painstakingly tamed just an hour before had turned themselves on me in the most traumatic way. My bangs had slipped free from their bobby pin, and my part was completely obstructed in a thick layer of frizz. It was one of those moments where I stood in front of the mirror and frantically racked my brain for anyone that would have seen me in the past hour. Thank God I had spent most of it sitting at my desk, although I did get up to make a cup of coffee….and phew! I didn’t pass anyone in the hall.
Usually, there are two options when I have such a quandary: A: Shave my head or B: Put it up in a ponytail. I went with option B, but even that was a disaster. Nothing was staying in place and my hair was not conforming at all. So I had no choice but to shave it off.
Just kidding! I didn’t shave my head, and last night, I didn’t even cut bangs in my hair, which is my usual course of action (which typically results in immediate remorse and regret). Instead, I spent the evening researching hair-care options. Search terms included “Why God?” “What the Hell” and “What to do when your hair hates you.” The results were surprisingly abundant.
You can read more from Alyssa Pry on her blog.
feature image via flickr.