My hair is temperamental at times. And not the good kind, where it's naturally curly and pretty at least some of the time. Hermione Granger, I am not:
No, my hair would rather just suck out loud. Based on what shampoo I use, when I've last washed it, whether or not it's been blown-dry, and probably all kinds of other things, it can be straight and dark, straight and very light brown, wavy and dark, or wavy and lighter. It can look dirty even if I washed it that morning; it can look clean on Sunday even if the last time I washed it was Friday. It only wavers between "okay" and "disgusting-looking"; "awesome" does not exist on my hair spectrum.
Every time I finish at the gym in the morning, or desperately try to scrub a weekend's worth of cigarettes and boozing on a Sunday night, it's basically a crapshoot. Will I look clean and decent? Or like a hobo?
And the kids always notice. And say something.
Days where I don't have time to blow-dry my hair before work, for example, are usually stinkers.
"Teacher, your hair. Wet? Why?" my advanced class asked me one day. Only it wasn't even wet, just piecey because I had given it a quick towel dry.
"I took a shower, but I couldn't blow-dry."
Or some days it dries very wavy.
"Teacher! Your hair! Perm?"
"No, it's just like this sometimes."
Other days it's inexplicably light to the point of being almost blonde.
"Teacher, hair change!"
"No, this is just my hair."
I would totally shave my head if I were a man, just so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. I would also cultivate a fine goatee, but that's another story for another time.
“next bus outta here”
1 year ago