I have never understood everybody else’s hostility towards my hair. You see, I have very thick, and kind of coarse, black, kind of wavy Asian hair. You’d think people from Asia would be totally cool with my hair, but I guess not. Not everyone’s hair is fine and stick-straight, not everyone is made from the same stuff those people in magazines and posters are from.
Every single hairdresser I have been to, for 22 years, have gasped and exclaimed, “OH MY GOD WHAT THICK HAIR YOU HAVE! Of course the only logical choice here is either to cut it all off or get it straightened. Of course!” For many years when I was younger, I buckled under societal pressure and had my hair straightened. It was all fine and dandy for the first month or so after the treatment, but when my hair started to grow out, I had this weird combination of wavy hair from my roots that abruptly goes straight halfway down to my tips. Then I had to have those nasty bits straightened again. After those many years, surprise surprise, my hair started to die.
It was just last just last year when I just threw my hands up and gave up with all these hair nonsense. I let my hair grow out and cut off the dead parts and started over. I soaked it with coconut milk for several hours a day, for a few times a week. I also switched to natural shampoo and conditioner. My hair’s better now, even if other people still cringe at it’s thickness and non-straightness.
What do I care, anyway? I’d rather have a full head of a mangled mess of hair than go bald with all those chemical treatments salons and magazines and general media like to shove down my throat.
My hair is fine, thank you very much.