|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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