Bad hair days are one of the Great Mysteries of Life.
My mother used to tell me this. And I haven't seen a whole lot in more than half a century on Earth to dispute her statement. But I have a theory.
This past week, I was talking with my daughter about her recent haircut. Funny, I was scheduled for one a week later. Great minds think alike, you say? More like fuzzy heads suffer together… Anyway, as I was saying, KC and I were chatting about the haircut. She loves it, and was relieved to have a style that she can manage. As she was talking about how difficult she finds the whole "section, blow dry, wind around the brush, hold and blow, root lifter application, start on next section" ritual that she has been fighting with for years, my brain went into overdrive with flashbacks of my own similar efforts.
I was mistress of my own style when Farrah was popular. Sucked to be me, and most of the other women I knew. The only way I could have actually achieved that style would have been a wig, or a head transplant. But I tried. Lord, how I tried. Over the years, I have tried tight perms, light perms, layering, no layers, blunt cuts and angled cuts. I have had the top permed and the bottom straight (I wish I hadn't remembered that one). I have used pin curls, sponge rollers, hot rollers and curling irons. I have used gel, mousse and even considered holy water. I have had black hair, red hair, brown hair, blonde hair, streaked hair, highlighted hair and every other thing except my natural color.
(Speaking of hair color: Does anyone out there remember WHAT their own color is? If you do, I am jealous… you must like it, it must look good on you. Mine doesn't - or at least, I assume it doesn't. Since I don't know what it is, I'm just guessing here. I like what I have been doing for the past 5 or 6 years now, and it works for me. At least, I don't want to hide my head in a bag, so I am guessing that means it is working for me…)
A little over a year ago, a co-worker gave me one of the greatest gifts one woman can give another. She introduced me to inexpensive hair pieces. For $20, and a trip to the hairdresser (to match the color exactly), I can have a Good Hair Day every day! Magic! I can have a long pony tail, a short one, a curly one, a straight one, or I can wind it up into a chignon, a bun, whatever. I can channel my Inner Diva without having a single ounce of talent in my entire body. And this brings me to my theory.
As KC was talking, I said to her "Oh My God, I am so sorry! I passed on the CDSH gene to you!"
Saying that, I realized that I had discovered THE ANSWER. The Holy Grail. Parted the veils of mystery and gazed upon the Moment of Truth. Some of us women are just cursed with the CDSH gene.
Think about it. Scientists are finding a gene for everything nowadays, right? Genes that cause this or that. And I think they are onto something. I have long suspected that upon hitting Puberty, the biological clocks of young men and women activate hidden genes. For boys, it is the Jerk Gene. For girls, it is the Bitch Gene. If you have had teenagers, you know I'm right…
So why not a gene to explain complete ineptitude with hair styling? It makes sense to me. I know for a fact that I am a carrier of the CDSH gene. I have proven it every morning for almost 58 years.
I simply Cant Do S@#% with my Hair.
Now that I know it isn't my fault, it is my genetic makeup, I can rest easy, enjoy my hairpieces without guilt, and move on. Thank you, modern science, for setting me free!
Today's Question: How do you feel about bad hair days? Do you have a funny story about your own experiences?
This article was written by Sandi Tuttle. To get more great advice from Women's Toolbox Media Diva Sandi Tuttle, visit her website at: www.averagewomansj.com