By Lily Cohen
My curlicue-shaped locks bounce as I strut down the sidewalk. My hair is still damp from the typical before-the-hair-cut shampooing and conditioning. I had taken the plunge and gotten the face-framing layers I had wanted for three months. I also got a small trim with some long layers. I take a million selfies, relishing in my newly discovered confidence. I run a few errands, feeling empowered to live up to my boss lady potential. But, as I arrive home, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me does not have the sleek new hairdo she thought she had. This girl possesses a frizzy poof. And this is exactly why I do not get my haircut very often and I am sure other curly-haired girls would say the same.
Curly hair is a complicated beast. I would never trade my curls for straight strands, but sometimes I wonder how much easier life would be? Curly-haired girls often do not know the final result of their haircut until hours later. Your hair has to dry and once it does, you see how much shorter it has been cut. I only wanted a trim, but my hair ended up looking much shorter because curls bunch up the shorter your hair is. They have less weight holding them down, so the coils become tighter than they previously were. As your hair gets shorter it also tends to poof outwards.
Hair is a huge component of our personal appearances and these appearances are how we present ourselves to the outside world. My curly hair has always been a strong part of my identity. I was always taught to love my curls because my mom had them as well. But, my hair journey has not always been easy. Three years ago, my hair was thinning from a chronic illness and the plethora of medications I had to take. I was feeling ashamed and disappointed in the hair I had once loved. I got a short bob haircut in an attempt to fix my hair, but I never felt confident in how it looked down. As my hair grew, I started to gain my hair confidence back. The moment I looked at myself in the mirror on Thursday, I thought I would have to start this process of growth all over again. Not just hair growth, but the process of loving myself and my natural hair.
Before breaking down and chastising myself for my stupid decision, I decide to redo my hair, on my terms. I hold back tears as I hold my hair under the bathtub faucet. I pat the locks dry with a cotton t-shirt, squinch a glob of Shea Butter Moisture into the strands, and plop my hair in the same t-shirt. I tell myself to not think about my hair for the rest of the night.
A few hours later, I am hanging out with my friends. One of them turns to me and says, “your hair looks so good today.” I smile, knowing that this is what I needed to hear.
