Personal Writing Prompt

Hair

July 1, 2012

today write about your hair. What does your hair feel like? What does it look like? Do you like it?

 

How do you take care of your hair? Wash it three times a week? Three times a day? Go to fancy salons? Got to dollar cuts? Cut it yourself?

 

How did you do your hair when you were younger? Did your mom help you? Did you use dippity doo? Hair bows? Clips? Bandanas? What was your best hairstyle? What was your worst? Did you sleep in curlers? Did you put in sun-in?

 

What hair have you always wished you had but never had the guts to do? A mo-hawk? Dreads? Dye it black? Pixie cut? Grow it out? Spiky?

 

What is the hair like in your family? Do you have the best hair? Does your brother? Is your dad bald? Does your mom have a beehive? DId you have to sit by your mom at the salon? Did your dad buzz your head every summer?

 

What is the history of your hair?

 

My hair is red and ratty and one time I cut it so short I couldn’t put a clip in it. some days I liked it, some days I hated it.

 

There are so many things I could say, like the time they called me carrot-top  at school and my mom told me to yell back at them, “carrot tops are green, potato head.” I never dared do that but I thought it was funny.  Or the time I remember Dolores Dunkin was on our basketball team and she had bright red hair and I thought eww, I don’t like her hair and then I realized our hair was exactly the same.  Or when my mom used to rinse my hair with vinegar and it used to get in my eyes and I’d scream she’d say, oh be quiet. You’re being a baby. And I was a being a baby.

 

Or the time I was eight and I went to the student dorms, Wymont Terrace so my brother’s new wife coudl french braid my hair. Donielle was good at hair and she pulled it so tight I started to cry. The tears were streaming down my face but I tried to stay as quiet as I could because I didn’t want her to know and stop. My mom didn’t know how to french braid and I wanted one so badly. I left that braid in for two weeks.

 

Or how I used to get huge gigantic ball snarls in my hair, so big we’d have to cut them out if the peanut butter wouldn’t work. So my mom chopped my hair and I was so embarrassed but I went to sleepover at Jessica Staub’s house and she was so cool and all the girls liked my hair and I was happy. But then during “Footoose” I got a little crazy and I got up on the fireplace and started dancing and singing to the movie. And everyone was laughing. They really were. They were laughing and laughing and so was I and I knew Iwas finally cool. Then later, in the middle of the night, I heard Jessica and Lisa whispering. I strained to make out the words and then when I did, I felt sick. “She’s such a show off.” “Can you believe she was up there liek that?” ” And “her hair makes her look like an old mom.”

 

There are so many things about hair.

1. how the humidity in Hong Kong made my hair stand straight out in a hugeballfrizz and the people would stare at me and ask if they could touch it.

2. The time I went to a fancy salon and wanted to get my hair colored and the stylist who had long bibilical hair and arm sleeve tattoos and was so cool, he told me there was no way he was going to color my hair. People come in trying to get that color, girl. This was the first time I sort of felt good about my hair.

3. except that’s not true. One time after church, Norma Davis came up to me and my mom and said, I was admiring that thick beautiful braid all during the meeting. I felt warm all over. It was my own braid I had done myself. I was thirteen. Fat. Zitty. A show off. But at least I had a good braid.

4. My husband’s hair and more importantly, the pictures of his hair (facial, neck, etc.) before we got married and what it tells me about who he was. And how he grows beards. and how he makes my boys laugh with his whiskers just how my dad used to with us.

5. My boys’ hair. The curls. The stick straight. The pieces of me and Cam, showing up in their hair. And how cam will buzz their hair and that’s the only way Van will have it because one time Kathy, my dear dear friend who takes care of us, was cutting his hair and knicked his ear and unfortunately, he’ll never forget, dear kathy. he’ll never forget.

4. Or how I can’t do mom’s hair now. I try. I get out the pic or the comb and I try to get it to go over the spot on the back of her head. I try to make it look nice but I can’t do it right. She wasn’t so good at doing my hair when I couldn’t do it myself and now I’m not so good at doing her hair now that she can’t do it herself.

 

Write about your hair.

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