You Asked For It...

...so here it is. A lovely picture of my hair (Forgive my self portrait. I suck at these). For those of you who know me in the "real" world, you are probably saying something like, "Uh, Courtney? It looks exactly the same." And to this I say, "On the contrary. It looks similar. Not the same."

I have naturally curly hair. It's frizzy and heavy. My Mom insisted that it be kept short until I was old enough to take care of it myself. So short it was until I was 15. It took a long time to grow out, and when it finally did, it created quite a stir. My Grandmother gushed over it - "It's all hers," she would say (and I wondered who else's it could have been). I literally became popular overnight. It was insane. And thus began the road to learning to love (ok, like) curly hair.

I never know what to do with it, and therefore it is usually pulled up in some sort of ugly bun-type thing or ponytail. It's just not pretty. I tend to keep the same style when I get it cut - longish layers that are able to be pulled up. It takes a lot of product to create a good hair day. Most of the time, it looks ooo-kay...a little crispy, but under control for the most part. Even when I'm having a GHD, I still feel like there are giant neon arrows pointing down at my head. So when I heard about a free haircut from one of the top salons in the area, I jumped at it. The girl who was in charge of my new "do" was awesome. And she did a great job. She used a razor for the entire cut, which was pretty neat. Instead of doing long layers all over my head, she cut out large sections of bulky hair. Then she added a few layers here and there to create shape (it used to look like a giant pyramid). She cut about 4 inches off the length, and it feels amazing.

Amazing isn't usually a word I use to describe my hair. My locks generate a lot of unwanted attention. When I was in high school, girls used to pet me. It was annoying. It's still annoying. Aside from touching my children without permission, hair touching is the number one offense I can think of. People ask me if I pay for my hair-do and color. I have been asked if I need a comb to tame its bushiness. My Mom has a short version of the same hair, and people stop her all the time, too. Most people mean well - they honestly like the hair. Others are idiots and don't realize that what they say is hurtful.

So, at age 30 I have finally grown to at least like my hair. I have a great cut, the color is nice (though I would love it if there was less grey), and it is all mine.