Shampoo Girl

"How do you get hair this awesome!?! You don't brush it!  You don't wash it! You don't do anything but sleep on it!"

 

One of my friends recently ranted at me about my hair. I feel bad because I find it so funny.  I will be the first to admit that my hair is pretty awesome in it's current state of long, dark, curls that get auburn streaks when I stand in the sun. Add in that I have been blessed with my Father's thick Mexican hair that hides imperfections and never grows faster than it really should, and I could be donating to Locks of Love well into my fifties.*  I love my hair... now.

 

Up until I was a Junior in college, I had ridiculously frizzy hair. It used to hover around waist length and be trimmed every five weeks on the dot. I'd comb, brush, shampoo, condition, primp, braid, and let loose and it never ceased to make me look like Cousin It or Tangela from Pokémon. Trust me, it wasn't pretty. 

Nonetheless, I made one of my very best friends in Elementary school because of my hair.  Every day Mimi would run up to me and ask me what shampoo I used. I couldn't fathom why she wanted to know, nor could I recall (or care) what kind of shampoo I used.  My lack of a response caused many of the older girls to chase me around calling me "Shampoo Girl".  I wasn't amused. Soon most of the playground knew me that name and I would usually go home crying.  Finally my Mother advised that I should tell them that my hair had nothing to do with my shampoo.  I still didn't understand.  But, I went back to school and repeated my Mother's words and then Mimi asked me a question I may never forget: "Then how do you have such long hair?"

I looked at her blankly. 

"Because I don't cut it," I eventually replied. 

Eventually Mimi and I became friends (after "Shampoo Girl" lost it's charm) but not before I acquired another nickname. As some of you may recall, my first name has a variation of "Anne" in it. Since my Mother had me wear my hair in two braids everyday (EVERY SINGLE DAY FROM 1ST GRADE THROUGH 6TH!!!!) one of the Elementary School teachers said that I looked like a doll... like a rag doll... like a Raggedy Annie. I may never forgive her for that one. 

Then I went through Junior High, High School, and most of College with my continued frizzy hair.  What made it worse was that I moved to Florida for college and my hair went... scary. Some days I'd wake up and look like Frankenstein's bride. And I still got teased about my hair, albeit not as much as when I was young.

And then I did something stupid.  Really stupid.  Even for my standards.  I used a temporary dye to turn my hair a beautiful auburn.  Instead it came out a lovely shade of burgundy.  I was unimpressed, but it was supposed to be temporary.  My roommate dyed her hair periwinkle at the same time.  Her color came out three days later.  My color didn't. In a fit of desperation (right before returning home) I decided to cut most of it off, praying that my parents wouldn't notice the color.  (It occurred to me afterwards that my Mother would just be grateful that it wasn't green.  Oh, and my Father is colorblind).  Of course I made this decision between the hours of 2am and 5am while writing a rather long history paper on the defining themes of the American Revolution that were unique to our history.  And then I made a mistake.  Not on the paper- on my hair.  So I had to fix it.  Then I made another mistake.  So I had to fix it again.  Pretty soon my long, waist length hair was barely covering my ears. 

I was convinced I was going to have to endure months of ridicule while it grew back and tearfully look at myself in the mirror while bemoaning my reckless decision.  And then something wonderful happened.  My frizzy hair curled. Not just sort of curled but ringlets.  And it was pretty, and it was effortless, and all I had to do was get it wet and it would form these gorgeous, Shirley Temple curls!  I had died and gone to heaven.

And when my family saw it, well- My Father said he was so glad to see me he wouldn't talk about my hair until we got home.  My Mother sat and looked at me in shock for several days, unsure how I had managed to get a perm in Florida.  And my grandmother said as soon as she saw me, "You mean you could have had curly hair this whole time!?!"

Well that was six years ago and although I've gotten better at styling it and keeping the curls between wettings, I haven't really done much more to it now than I had time to do in college.  But you want to know the secret to how I have such awesome hair now? Well it's not because of my shampoo.

 

*(For the record, I have donated to Locks of Love twice. Please don't tell me that I should donate my hair like it's an original idea that I never would have thought of on my own. I like my hair long and I really don't enjoy arguing with strangers over the fact that because I have something good I should give it away.)