my hair is not like duct tape

Even as an adorable baby, I had dark hair and lots of it.

hair baby

As a little kid with no real say-so in much of, well, anything at all, my hair was kept super short.

hair 70s bowlcut

(I suspect it’s because of how much hair I had, and maybe because it was the 70s and short, bowl-cuts were hip? But really, folks? Stay away from putting a bowl atop your child’s head!)

When puberty hit, my hair started getting some texture to it, and it hasn’t stopped since then.

hair late 80s

hello 1988 & trying to brush out curly hair

Now in my forties, I have super curly hair with the added bouncy bonus of silver grays, and until last Monday, my hair was long.

hair looong

Monchichi & me, Halloween 2011

Really long.

I generally wore it tossed together in a ball of sorts atop my head because it just gets to be too much and I hate sweating and feeling hot and let me tell you, all that hair gets HOT.

hair top of head

hello silver circa 2012

For the most part, I’ve really grown to like my hair. A lot. Even the silver. But there are times when I’d love to do something different; I start looking into shorter cuts and dream of someone cutting my hair the way I want it cut, opposed to the way they were taught.

My hair is not like duct tape. You don’t (wet it,) pull at it, hold it, and cut. It doesn’t work like that. I mean, sure it does, but then when the hair dries, it will be inches shorter than when it was wet, and it will, inevitably, look like shit.


I’ve always loved Posh Spice’s cut—long in front, short in back—but never dreamed it would be possible to do on my super curly hair.

hair posh

Then during one of my wanting-to-do-something-different moods, I stumbled across pictures of short curly hair in an inverted bob (Posh cut). Regardless, I was terrified of going for it because I still hadn’t found anyone who would cut my hair dry– or they would cut it dry but then they’d still do the whole treating it like duct tape thing (pull, hold, cut).

Finally, after a miscarriage in 2008 and feeling like I needed a drastic change, I went for it. Of course the end result was ridiculously short and so awful I begged that my husband never let me cut my hair short again. (He keeps a picture on his cell for when I get in the mood to do something different.)

hair 2009

2009 after months of growth from awful cut; hell no am I showing pic hub has

Since that horrid cut, I’ve gotten my hair cut a total of two times excluding last Monday’s cut, because last Monday, I got my hair cut at a joint in the city (Chicago) that specializes in the DevaCurl cut.

hair today


I kinda love it, and for the first time (in for)ever, I felt like I finally found a place that really understood me and my hair… until I went and picked up my favorite person in the whole world—my 4 year-old daughter—and, once in our seats in the car, asked her what she thought of my cut. I mean, if you want an honest opinion you ask a kid, right?

She wasn’t too happy.*

The moral of the story? If you have naturally curly hair and can never seem to be happy with a cut, look into the DevaCurl way. Oh, and don’t get a drastic cut and ask your kid how it looks if you’re looking for positive reinforcement.



*This week she’s used to my hair again and doesn’t cringe or cry when she sees me.



I dreamed a movie again last night. Actually it was more like this morning. Do you ever do that? Dream a movie. Like an action movie. It’s exhausting to wake up during an action movie. I feel absolutely drained.

This one involved a bus of sorts. And a prison-like environment. Actually, it was more like a prison/foster home. Or something. It was super dark and big–the “home”. People were walking around with cloaks on. They were alone or with maybe one or two other people. It was quiet, not a lot of talking.

I was there but it was like I was filming myself. There was a small man there as well.

The dream-movie began when we were young children in the “home.” He and his gang of friends or family were loud and obnoxious. But he was small so he seemed to get picked on a lot. Like one time when they were walking down the stairs and he was eating a brownie. Some of the brownie fell to the floor and he looked quite upset. The older kids pointed and laughed and taunted him. He tried to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. (I feel like this character is very similar to the hard ass on Shameless. I can’t think of the character’s name but he’s short and quite crass, but he’s also gay which he tries to hide. Update: his name is Mickey.)

Then we flash to the future or present day. I’m trying to escape the “home”. And I make it out. Not quite sure how exactly but I, along with some others, make it out. But then we’re somehow caught and brought back and locked up. (Think Elsa and Frozen.)

The plan is to escape by pretending to be a cloak person. We end up stealing a bus as we pretend to be the cloak people. But again, our escape is quickly squashed and this time, they put us in this underground “home” that makes it near impossible to escape. The only way out is for someone to break in from the outside to get us out.

So the small man from earlier (dude from Shameless??) comes to our rescue. Only we don’t know who it is and my dream has me seeing the action through his eyes. That’s what I mean about dreaming a movie. I could see things to the left and right and in front and below– whenever he moved his head. I knew that I was in someone’s point of view during the dream, but I wasn’t sure whose pov. Then I slip through this huge churning thing and am able to see myself and others to free us.

The point of view shifts back to a general overall view of things. And that’s when I see it’s the small man who rescued us, whose pov I was in earlier. The others are so shocked he saved us because he was one of them. But I knew it was because he’d had enough of following and wanted to become a leader.

Of course he was then locked up. He was planning his escape when my fucking alarm brought me back to reality.

Like I said, I’m exhausted.