Rainy Day Hair

Rainy day hair-  no survival guide here; let’s just bond that we will never win that battle, shall we?

Ah… Rain!  I love the rain!!

I love to listen to it falling gently to the ground. 

I love the super-green grass and trees that result from it

I love to just sit and watch it.

Yes… I do love rain. 

My hair is of another opinion entirely.

My hair… Now… It is possible (dare I say probable) that my hair will be a somewhat frequent topic of conversation, as we (my hair and I) have had a love/hate relationship since it decided to get really curly (about the age of 7). 

I absolutely detested my curly hair when I was younger; not having the first clue what to do with it!  My mother, bless her, is gifted with lovely, stick straight hair, and had zero knowledge of what to do with these curls.  So, she did the logical thing:  she asked her hairdressers how to work with it.   

I am thoroughly convinced that 95% of all hairdressers are completely and utterly CLUELESS when it comes to styling curly hair.  Over the years, my curls have been teased, “picked” (what a perfectly HORRIBLE idea!!!), brushed (see “picked”), permed so that all the curls were “uniform” (okay… some hair dresser with a vendetta against curly-q’s came up with THAT bit of insanity!!), hot rolled, dyed, deep conditioned (decidedly the most healthy treatment they ever had), and a hundred other things!  In fact, I spent most of my life looking like a cross between a fuzzy q-tip and a mildly deranged poodle!  It wasn’t until I was in college, and met a young woman named Meghan that I finally understood how to tame the tresses:  Condition the heck out of them, weigh them down with a ton of product, dry them until they are still damp, and walk away.  Thank you, Meghan, for helping me to come to terms with my long ringlets.  Now, the curls, on a good day, hang in lovely, layered ringlets & slim sausage curls; all naturally- no manipulation. 

But… we’re not talking about good days, are we?  No… I believe RAINY DAYS were the topic of conversation...

I decided long ago that I could probably predict the weather by looking in the mirror when I wake up.  I have no need to step outside to know that it is raining.  So long as I have hair on my head, I am a walking hygrometer (device used to test humidity in the air).

This morning I look like someone took a sheep in full wool, ready to be shorn, died it auburn & highlighted it with dark blonde, sprayed it with metallic hairspray & hooked the poor thing up to an electric outlet; causing hairs to curl and frizz and stand on end in all directions.  Another analogy, I look a bit like my hair is, literally, on fire; burning flames that move when there is no wind due to the enormous amount of static electricity!!  

This is one of those days where you walk past the mirror, stop on a shriek, realize you scared yourself, and go on your way. 

Luckily, for my vanity as well as the health & well-being of others, I am not required to make any public appearances today!  So, I think I’ll go get my nice bristle brush, brush my fuzz-ball until it crackles, poof it up with my “beloved” pick, and embrace my inner French poodle.