Embracing My Hair Part I

The Beginning

I have never understood my hair. I didn’t as a kid and am slowly learning today.

Sitting in my mom’s kitchen on a Saturday night right before Easter, getting my hair pressed was a treat. I loved the look and feel of my hair but hated the heat burns, the long process, and the combing – particularly since I have always been extremely ‘tender-headed.’ Once my hair was pressed, I could not go outside and play – nor did I want to –or do anything that would cause my hair to ‘sweat back.’

 On Easter morning, I would get up and put on my new Easter dress with matching ruffled socks, and my mom would take out the rollers and comb out my curls. This felt like heaven! (It just occurred to me if I was getting myself dressed, I was probably too old to be wearing an Easter dress and matching ruffled socks…).  Unfortunately by the end of the Easter egg hunt, my hair was a big poof of nothingness and back to pony tails I went.

At the age of 12 I got my first relaxer and you couldn’t tell me nothing! Lux – uri- ous! I didn’t know or care what damage was being done. All I needed was to have a retouch ready to go in six to eight weeks! I functioned this way for 20 years. 

Surprisingly, who never desired to be natural was ME!

Next time, I’ll continue the story with my painful growing out process saga…no big chop for me!

Until then, what are your remembrances of your earlier hair situation – were they cute or painfully ugly? Please share.

XoXo,

Demi