Curing My Bad Hair Days

by Niturnia
(Largo, Florida)

My thin hair has been wavy, curly and frizzy my entire life. Shrinkage was something I became familiar with long before I knew the effect cold water has on a penis - or even before I'd ever seen a penis, for that matter.

My straight-haired aunts and mother probably started it, telling me to brush my dry hair every day. In the Caribbean humidity, my hair flared up to Bozo proportions. Sometime in 8th grade, after we moved to the northeastern US and all its heavy summer humidity, I began getting up at 5 so I could try to duplicate the feathered-back look and the straight blown-out bangs that were the rage in 1982. It was mortifying for one of the blonde straight-haired popular girls to suggest hair-styling tips to me in front of everyone else in the girls' bathroom (wherever she is now, may she have seriously thinning hair).

I continued living in the north east, suffering through unmanageable hair that shrank or made me look unprofessional. I had no idea what to do with it, but at least I had stopped combing it when dry. Bad hair days happened very regularly: about 360 days a year. I was still shampooing daily, as well. I always felt ugly.

Fast-forward to the day I discovered the existence of hair straightening solutions and was recommended a stylist who would do a professional job for $60. Like me, she was Puerto Rican, but she had kinky roots and a huge mane of thick straightened hair. That should have been my first clue to walk right out of the salon. She put the goo all over my head, neglected to set a timer and wandered away. After 10 minutes or so, my scalp tingled and then felt as though it had burst into flames. I started yelling for her. She ran over and started to rinse. She rinsed some more. She cleared hair out of the drain and continued rinsing. She quickly blow-dryed me, took the payment and sent me home. She may have locked the door after me; I think I heard a click, but it was long ago. Anyway, I felt lighter somehow, but not in a good way; there was a feeling of doom. Later that very same night, I found the breakage all over my crown. Patches of hair had broken off about 1/4 inch from my scalp all over the top of my head!!

In a few weeks I had slightly less curly long hair combined with haphazard patches of wavy tufts of new growth on top of my head. It was absolutely hideous and I looked completely insane. There was no hiding that mess. I ran to another hairdresser for a very short cut I hoped might make me look like Sharon Stone's distant Puerto Rican half-cousin twice removed (it was during her heyday, when she was considered sexy and sane). I can honestly say that the new cut was not so bad. It was ugly, but it wasn't as bad as what I'd just endured.

Living with both the tufts from hell and the cropped cut cured me forever of bad hair days. Today, I am grateful for my frizzy wavy curls. Good luck to you girls; do your homework and embrace your natural hair.