I’ve always dreamed the day would come when I can put on a hat and take it off, and my hair would remain the same. Or perhaps I’d be wearing a jumper. It’s hotter than I expected! I want to take the jumper off. And I would, gloriously. Then I’d fold it up neatly and maybe blow a strand of fringe out of my eyes, but that would be my absolute biggest problem. Know why? Because my hair would remain the same.
Oh, you people have no idea what it’s like to have coarse, thick hair. “What lovely coarse, thick hair you have!” the hairdressers all say as they’re snipping it. “I wish I had hair this thick and strong!”
But you really don’t. Short of standing under a waterfall and applying six different, expensive products to my hair every day, there’s no way I can contain this mop. It does what it wants, when it wants. I can carefully sculpt it into a perfect shape over the course of an hour or so, but a slight gust of wind, or I catch it on a branch, and poof. All my effort, gone.
Last time I had a job interview, I went to the hairdresser in David Jones. Just for ONE interview. My hair looked great, of course…that’s why people pay money to learn how to become hairdressers. Hairdressers have the mystical ability to tame the beast of any hair type, although when I ask for advice it never seems to work for me when I try it at home. I’m convinced that those salon TAFE courses give you mystical powers of some variety. And don’t think I haven’t considered doing a hairdressing course, JUST so I can learn to tame this blight of brambles sitting atop my skull.
I am burdened with thick tresses for life, it would seem. It’s in all the family photos. Maybe I should find a hair salon in Melbourne and cut a deal. Hair styling every day, for a reduced fee. No idea if that’s a typical salon offer, but maybe if they heard my tale of woe…