Straight No More


So just like that I decided one day that never again will I be reduced to a ball of frizz. Never again will I be the girl with big hair. And never again will I ruin a chic, structured, well-behaved outfit with crazy-all-over-the-place dirty-blonde locks. That’s when my mission to become the lucky bitch goddess in a Pantene advert – with shiny, sleek, smooth hair – started.

But unlike that girl in the advert: I wasn’t ‘born with it’. Hell no. I had to work hard to get  – not even close to – it. I made it my sole occupation. I visited hair salons three times a week, be-friended Paolo my local hairdresser (that I even chatted with on Whatsapp in the event of hair emergency) and invested in anti-frizz products at exorbitant prices: Moroccan oil, Kerastase Elixir, Shu Uemura intensive repair, John Frieda 3-day straight, you name it.

When flat hunting in London, I made sure I was at a walking distance from a respectable salon for my outings to be secured and my weekends blow-dried. Vacations were trickier though, I gotta admit. Swimming without dipping my hair in the water was always a major challenge. It required a hat, a hair band, and a specific swimming technique (chin up, like a turtle). After all, I did not want to scare my companion by revealing my true colors (I mean… my true curls): He did not sign up for a sudden unexpected metamorphosis! Yes… swimming was definitely tricky and kinda embarrassing. But rain and humidity remained my worst enemis. How many times did I arrive to work/ a meeting with half-curly hair? GHD hair straighteners became my best friends and never left my handbag.

Five years I spent bleaching, pulling my hair so it would resemble the vague souvenir of the Barbies of my childhood. Five years I slept with deep nourishing masks, olive oil and coconut butter on my hair in the hope I would wake up transformed, with my afro-years long gone. Five years I spent depriving myself from the beautiful salty water of the sea. Five years I spent ‘repairing’ my hair from excessive heat exposure. Five years I spent scheduling my nights out around Paolo’s schedule.

Until the day I said: Enough. Enough time, money, effort, sorrow. Nothing can be done. I am born curly, and it is here to stay. It is about time I embraced it. No amount of bleaching and Brazilian blow-drying will stop this persistent, stubborn, obstinate hair from growing brown and… curly. And I might as well just let it be. Why try to tame the untamable? Why try to be that Pantene girl when I can just be my curly self? And my personal epiphany reminded me of a scene in Sex and the City. The world is made of two types of women: the goddesses simple girls with straight hair… and the complicated girls with messy wild curly hair. I guess I will always belong to that second group. I guess I am just like my hair…

Share it if like me, you’ve had a complicated relationship with your locks. 


1 Comment

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One response to “Straight No More

  1. N.

    I’ve been brought up to believe my curls are wild and not socially acceptable in proper events. But i’ve very recently come to terms with it. I can’t pull off straight hair, and even if i did for a very short period of time, i just wouldn’t look like myself. Like you said: “I guess I am just like my hair…” 🙂

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