A post for my hair, in vane

Over a year ago on a boring Friday night I, stupidly, plugged my US waving iron into a Korean power socket, with no wattage converter, and waited for it to heat up.  “Tonight,” I thought, “I’ll play with my hair as if I were 8 years old again because I had nothing better to do.”

Once that baby heated up, I fisted a healthy section of hair, opened the waving clamps, sandwiched my hair in between, and released it.  Instantly, I heard a sizzle and smelt that incredibly distinct smell of burning hair.  The plan was to wave my hair.  The reality was that I scorched it.  My fist of long hair had cinched up into what looked like a handful of pubes.  F*ck!

I ended up cutting out most of the hair as I could, but much remained.  And over time, that one handful of ravaged hair had managed to weigh heavy on my head.  Apparently 200 strands of damaged hair had the capability of being detrimental to your entire head.  So, from that time on all of my hair was never the same.  Not soft and not as straight.  It felt rough, dry and well, damaged.

When I’m bored, I stare at my hair, searching for dead ends.  Enthralling, I know.  Now, this doing had included incessantly  running my fingers through my dead hair and constantly thinking “this is so gross.”  Yet I just accepted it.  I don’t know why.  I guess I was just waiting for it to grow out.  And, I wasn’t ready to let go of my long hair.

Well, last week sitting in my empty classroom, fingers combing through damaged hair, I got fed up.  I hated how I would spend hours a day doing this.  I hated how it felt, and I hated how I constantly complained about it.  At last something clicked; 2 minutes later I decided I was going to chop it off.  Like to my chin.  And today.  Immediately after work.  I didn’t care where I went, I just wanted that hair off, and I wanted it off now.

An hour later I found myself in a chair looking at 10 inches of my hair in another woman’s hand.  She dropped it to the floor.  The floor turned black.  “Oh my god,” is all I said.  She continued snipping away, adding more black to the already black and hairy floor.  And then she was done.

Then all I said was, “How weird,”  “Wow, it’s so weird.”

My hair hadn’t been this short since the 6th grade. (as seen below)  And after that awful haircut, long hair had sorta always been my thing.  For the following 14 years, my hair would always be long.

But for now, I’m back to my 6th grade style, except sans awkward bangs.  And it feels really refreshing.  And easy.  Plus, I save money on shampoo.  But I’m pretty sure I’ll be returning to my long-hair-thing once it grows back.

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2 comments on “A post for my hair, in vane

  1. Nikki
    March 10, 2012 at 10:59 am #

    hahaha I gave myself “pube hair” once before when straightening my hair with a clothes iron… I could never pull off short hair like you. It really looks great on you

  2. makings of a better life
    March 10, 2012 at 1:56 pm #

    i always wondered how and if that works (using a regular iron)… 😛

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