Chocolate cream, raspberry cream, HAIR CREAM?!
Proud to have passed on:
1) Ethan, at the age of 10 5/6, still believes in Santa Claus. I'm sure he's heard rumors, but he's not taking any chances. I have fiercely guarded his innocence, and it makes me REALLY happy that he's still essentially a kid. Sadly, these days, so many children at his age are not.
2) Simon, in the car or down time at home, will pick up a book or two or eleventy to pass the time. This makes me insanely joyful! Of course, it doesn't hurt that virtually every horizontal surface in the house is covered with reading material, but still. Yay reading!
Nervous that I might inadvertently pass on:
3) Hair issues. I fear I am already beginning to pass on my hair issues to Charlotte.
I HATE my hair. HATE! LOATHE! DESPISE! My hair is Marcia Brady straight. I know those of you with curly locks out there are like, "Lucky!" No. It's not attractive, Jennifer-Aniston straight. My hair has wispy ends, so it just looks flat and straggly naturally. Plus, I was imprinted in the 80s, as far as coifs go, so my preference would be for BIG! Not mall-hair big, (of course!) but rather: Thick, full, cascading, Renaissance-princess, Venus-on-the-half-shell, mermaid tresses. Big old loose waves. Romance-heroine hair. That's what I want. And not grey.
I can't wait for perms to come back in. I loved my spiral perms. *sigh* Good times.
So consequently I spend a LOT of money on cuts and colors and products, and a lot of time in the bathroom endeavoring to give my straight-straight hair some body and volume. I blow dry with the round brush. I hot roll every day. I spray it like your mother does. And then, I step outside in the Indiana humidity, and it all falls out. Flat again. And I spend the rest of the day cursing about it. Sometimes I come home and do it all over again. More than once. This is one of the many reasons I am miserable all summer.
I have never been, nor will I ever be satisfied with my hair.
So there Charlotte is with me in the bathroom this morning, watching like a hawk everything I'm doing, and when I mousse my hair, she reaches up and puts her wee hands in my hair and fluffs it with me, and then she reaches to her own straight little pigtails and applies the product to her own hair. Cute, right? But also? Scary. I want her to be more satisfied with her own natural attributes than I am.
I feel helpless about this. How can I instill good hair esteem in my daughter, when I hate and stress out about my own so very very much?
1) Ethan, at the age of 10 5/6, still believes in Santa Claus. I'm sure he's heard rumors, but he's not taking any chances. I have fiercely guarded his innocence, and it makes me REALLY happy that he's still essentially a kid. Sadly, these days, so many children at his age are not.
2) Simon, in the car or down time at home, will pick up a book or two or eleventy to pass the time. This makes me insanely joyful! Of course, it doesn't hurt that virtually every horizontal surface in the house is covered with reading material, but still. Yay reading!
Nervous that I might inadvertently pass on:
3) Hair issues. I fear I am already beginning to pass on my hair issues to Charlotte.
I HATE my hair. HATE! LOATHE! DESPISE! My hair is Marcia Brady straight. I know those of you with curly locks out there are like, "Lucky!" No. It's not attractive, Jennifer-Aniston straight. My hair has wispy ends, so it just looks flat and straggly naturally. Plus, I was imprinted in the 80s, as far as coifs go, so my preference would be for BIG! Not mall-hair big, (of course!) but rather: Thick, full, cascading, Renaissance-princess, Venus-on-the-half-shell, mermaid tresses. Big old loose waves. Romance-heroine hair. That's what I want. And not grey.
I can't wait for perms to come back in. I loved my spiral perms. *sigh* Good times.
So consequently I spend a LOT of money on cuts and colors and products, and a lot of time in the bathroom endeavoring to give my straight-straight hair some body and volume. I blow dry with the round brush. I hot roll every day. I spray it like your mother does. And then, I step outside in the Indiana humidity, and it all falls out. Flat again. And I spend the rest of the day cursing about it. Sometimes I come home and do it all over again. More than once. This is one of the many reasons I am miserable all summer.
I have never been, nor will I ever be satisfied with my hair.
So there Charlotte is with me in the bathroom this morning, watching like a hawk everything I'm doing, and when I mousse my hair, she reaches up and puts her wee hands in my hair and fluffs it with me, and then she reaches to her own straight little pigtails and applies the product to her own hair. Cute, right? But also? Scary. I want her to be more satisfied with her own natural attributes than I am.
I feel helpless about this. How can I instill good hair esteem in my daughter, when I hate and stress out about my own so very very much?
posted by grudge girl at 12:45 PM
5 Comments:
"good hair esteem" is something i'd never thought about. now that i'm having a girl, maybe i should start paying attention and learning how to braid hair.
my mother was never one to care too much about hair (and she doesn't wear make-up) so i don't either. (my sister, on the other hand, is the total opposite.) i don't know what i'll do if the girl asks me to do her hair nice. all i can tell her is to brush it!
Growing up, it seemed like the really popular girls all knew how to French braid their hair. I can barely do a regular braid. I found this terribly upsetting as a teenager, and I've vowed that I will know how to French braid by the time Isabelle is in school. Of course, it's not that I want her to be one of the popular girls, because they were perhaps not the kindest of souls, but I'd hate for her to go around feeling inadequate because I lack manual dexterity.
Issues like this make me think that boys really are easier.
At last! An issue within my purview!
I Love My Hair. It took me years to be able to say that, and I've permed and colored, cut and curled with the best of them.
The key to instilling good hair esteem is to say, over and over to the Girl " Your hair is so pretty."
She will still go through a period where she hates her hair, but it won't last.
The important thing to remember is that everyone wants whatever they don't have. Curlys want straight, blondes want brunette- I spent years longing after long straight black hair. Many years getting perms- And I have romance novel, long loose curl, thick shiny hair naturally.
And, guys, French braiding should be easy for you knitters- it just takes practice. Try practicing with yarn first.
Thus spake The Beauty School Dropout!
But...you can always rip out the knitting!
Heh. Y'all are funny!
I was at one of my millionty jobs tonight, over at the dinner theatre, and during the show, one of the servers, who is married to one of the bigwigs, and who is also my special awesome friend Julie, the photographatrix extraordinaire, came down from her husband's upstairs office and totally said to me, "If you get a spiral perm I will not be your friend anymore." HA! She had been up there reading my blog on his computer! Hee!
Of course, I had to argue a titch for my fave hair process, but she wasn't hearing it. Sigh. I guess I'm lame.
I learned to French braid, and the outside-in kind as well, on my oversized Barbie-head thing when I was, like, 12. I just experimented until I figured it out, starting with the basic 3-strands overlapping concept. You know those busts they have? Where you do the makeup and hair? Those things.
I loved mine. I slept with it.
HA! I DID!
I KNOW!
But I was super proud to have learned that skill, because, like Erica says, it was de rigeur for the day.
I will remember to tell Charlotte how pretty her hair is. Often. Thanks, TL!
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