I Tried Kim Kardashian's Super-Long Hair
Kim Kardashian has been showing off some very long hair extensions recently. Having never had long hair myself, I was curious to see just what all the fuss was about. So, I got myself a wig, added some ass-skimming extensions, and spent a day channeling my inner Kim.
From the moment I put on the wig, I knew it wasn't for me. Long hair is not my look, especially without a bang to help minimize my five-head.
Even so, I did enjoy the novelty of my new tresses. They really raised the fun level of every mundane activity - from crossing the street to turning in my desk chair - and there is nothing I love more than having fun (especially at work).
I sent emails, met with colleagues, and worked on a story about the fashion potential of Slankets, all while whipping my substantial hair back and forth and eliciting peels of laughter from my coworkers. It was a good day, made better by having extra-long hair to play with.
I needed to do more to feel like Kim though. Since she's constantly exercising, I took a trip to my office gym to work up a (mild) sweat and fuel my appetite before lunch. I did not have a hair tie, so I left my raggedy mane to flow freely as I climbed stairs, pushed a punching bag around on the floor, and did whatever it is you do on the elliptical. Stride?
I don't know if these are the kinds of exercises Kim does, nor do I care. The less I know about the specifics of Kim Kardashian's day, the better off I am - intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. That said, the hair definitely made the gym more amusing than usual, so that was nice.
My look, however, was not so nice. I joked with my colleagues that my hair and I belonged on the cover of a romance novel, but I think we would have been more at home in the psych ward of Bellevue Hospital.
By the time I was done at the gym, my barely managed rats' nest had turned into a full-on trash pile. I was still into the hair - after all, fun should always trump beauty - but whatever hopes I once nurtured that I didn't remotely look like Samara from The Ring's ugly stepsister were now dead and buried.
On the street outside the office, a few people gave me weird looks, but not as many as I expected. Honestly, I think most of the people were more intrigued by the cameramen following me around than they were by me and my hair. After all, New York City is full of freaks, but a freak with a camera crew is still something special.
A former coworker saw me and complimented me on my new hairs, then asked to take a picture of me. He was obviously mocking me - his true feelings were as plain as the tar stains on his teeth - but I allowed him to take my photo anyway, knowing full well that he would drop it into some hateful group chat seconds later.
The truth is, I gave up on trying to control my image long ago. I mean, who has the time for that shit? I guess Kim does - the woman hasn't taken a bad photo in years - but I certainly don't. If taking an unflattering photo of me and sharing it with his friends could bring a little joy into my former coworker's sad, spiteful life, then I was happy to oblige him.
Now, eating with my ass-length hair proved to be a bit of challenge, especially since I chose to dine al fresco. The wind kept blowing the strands across my face and I found that the only way to avoid getting a mouthful of polyester hair tangled up in my cheese grits was to hold my chin high as I airplaned food into my mouth from above. It was not an elegant procedure, but, again, I had no hair tie to keep my unruly tresses at bay.
At the beginning of all this, a friend suggested that I keep a hair tie on my wrist for situations such as this. I told her I would sooner cut off my hand than wear a loop of black elastic on my wrist. Even after a lunch spent chewing more hair than food, I stand by that statement. Hair ties worn on wrists are an abomination. Besides, you never see Kim Kardashian with a hair tie on her wrist. Even though I'm not a fan of Kim's, I do admire the way she pulls together a look, and the truth is, there is nothing pulled-together about wearing a hair elastic like a bracelet. But I digress.
I snuck out after lunch and did my best to find more joy in my super-long tresses while I still had them. I went to a coffee shop for a soy latte and even rented a bike for 30 minutes. I spilled some coffee on my shirt, which I would love to blame on the wig but probably had more to do with the hot guy I was rubbernecking on the street.
The bike ride was fun though. I enjoyed feeling my hair drift in the breeze behind me as I peddled along the streets around my office. I almost ran into a few people (not to mention an oncoming car) when my wig temporarily blinded me - damn wind! - but all in all, it was a lovely experience.
Eventually, I had to return to work. At that point I'd been wearing my wig for a solid four hours and I was ready to take it off. My scalp was sweating like crazy and I could feel a wet patch forming on my back where my hair lay on my shirt.
Back at the office, I removed my wig and felt a tremendous sense of relief. My long-hair saga was over. It was fun, but, honestly, I don't know how women do it. Long hair, especially hair as long as what Kim's been sporting lately, just seems like way more trouble than it's worth.
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