 |
| I want my freedom! |
I am
having the most dreadful hair day. I just can’t seem to do anything with it!
I blame
my hairdresser and her unwillingness to accept my curly hair's defiant nature. Like most of her colleagues, she operates under the false
belief that with enough “product” or the right straightening tool, she can
tame the frizzy beast and torture it into submission. I’ve got news for you
woman. You can’t tell a Latin woman’s hair what to do. She is a shady, unruly
bitch. AND. SHE. CANNOT. BE. TAMED.
Anyway,
she gave me this God awful choppy-layered cut that clearly would’ve been better
served on the head of a cool, edgy Asian chick with pin straight hair.
On my
head, well, let’s just say it ain’t pretty...
 |
| The hell you looking at, bitch?! |
After
many lost battles with a flat iron, I’ve given up any feeble attempts to style
it. So I decided to just let it dry naturally last night and do its own thing. I can’t say what greeted me in the bathroom mirror this morning was a vast improvement.
Good Lord, my hair is HUGE!...
I look like a 70s disco
queen.
All I need is a bright
orchid over my ear and some shiny plum gloss.
But I refuse to let it ruin my day. In the words of Indie Arie: I am not my
hair.
So I’m
owning it. And I'm gonna rock this massive, tangled mess of curls with
brazen confidence, like a trailblazing brown-skinned sparkly diva. I’m bringing this look back.
Note: This is
how you own a bad hair day…with a defiant stare...and serious attitude.
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