Thotz of Long Hair...Reminiscing and Stuff
I've talked about my hair before. I believe it was my first blog. I shaved my widows peak waiting for a handyman to arrive at my apartment one morning. And now I will talk about my hair again. I guess because it's one of the few things that I do take seriously. I've never dyed it, colored or highlighted it, I rarely rarely blow dry. But every four years or so...
I hate my hair. I hate it. I feel ugly.
It used to be long, and now it's all gone. I cut if off every four years and donate it. I mean I'm glad about that part, but still, it's the same cycle every four years. I grow it, I cut it, I donate it, but then, I dread my hair for about two years until it's an acceptable length to my liking.
Nothing I wear, no makeup I can apply, no perfume I can spray on, will make me feel pretty until at least two years pass. To top it off, my uncles (My dad has 7 brothers, 4 of which live in Austin with us), who are very very very stuck in old-fashioned-cultural-roled-super-blunt-'claridoso'-ways of Mexico, love to tease me by calling me rebeco. BECAUSE WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE LONG HAIR, DISHONOR! Maybe I'm exaggerating a little...but the still find a way to rub in what they think of my hair any chance they get.
I miss it so...There were just so many things I could do with it: Make a bun, curl it, crimp it, half-ponytail, gel it, moose it, leave it flowing, high ponytail, roll curlers in, treat it, tease it, low ponytail, etc. And there were so many things that I could use if for: It was literally like my own human blanket, wipe things off, wack people with it, cover my arms, tie it, smell it, snuggle with it, tickle people with it, chew it, eat it, etc. (Kidding about the last two).
Now I look like a cross between a little-macedonial-hungry-girl-slash-egyptian-could-be-latina-nerdette-slash-might-be-twenty-or-so-but-still-reminds-me-of-a-little-girl-four-eyed-psycho hybrid. I hope these years go by swiftly.
posted by Becca @ 7:07 PM
Comments: 1
