Here’s the thing about my hair: I have about 4 ounces of it.
Literally. I’ve seen newborn babies with more hair than I have.
Unlike the biblical passage suggests, my hair is by no means my “crowning glory”. Fine, limp, and impervious to growth, it’s really more of my cross to bear in this life. In fact, I’d probably rank it #3 on my running list of nemeses (nemesi?), right after stairs and the subway turnstile.
When I was a child I had no hair at all until I was 3 years old. Seriously. I’d show you a pic, but no one wants to see that sh*t. Trust me when I say it was freaky. A walking, talking, bald-headed human-child, I was sort of like Stewie from family guy. Only without the british accent. Or the evil genius.
Eventually, after being the recipient of enough horrified glances and people running away screaming, my mom got wise to the situation and sprinkled some chia seeds on that noise, allowing me to sprout out a few, feeble spaghetti-like strands and to make it through the rest of my childhood without being mistaken for an alopecia patient.
But it was never ideal. Paper thin and mousey brown, I remember envying all the girls in school with long, thick beautiful hair and wishing I had been similarly blessed.
Eventually, after almost 20 years of trying, my hair finally grew long when I was in university. Must’ve been all that non-exercise and balanced diet of wine coolers and frosted mini wheats.
For a few years, I was in the hair sweet-spot:
But for some ridiculous reason, in third year I decided to cut it all off.
Like choosing milk on a hot day, I immediately regretted my decision, and left the salon in a puddle of tears and anxiety.
For the next 2.5 years, I tried desperately to grow it back, while at the same time dealing with the awkward aftermath of a short haircut (All those in-between stages? yikes.) But it’s still nowhere near the length it once was.
Fearing that I was destined to spend the rest of my life looking like that sad, “before” girl in the Pantene Pro-V commercials, I decided to get to the root of the matter (pun intended) and explore some new methods of getting my hair to grow:
#1. The Shank Braid.
At my last hair appointment, I told my hairdresser about my plight and she suggested that I try braiding my hair while running, rather than tying it back in a ponytail, as it is much easier on your hair.
Sounded like a good idea. But here’s the problem: Given that I can’t even look at a treadmill without sweating like a wh*re in church, halfway through my run my braid got so heavy and water-logged that it became somewhat of a weapon, swinging back and forth on my head and hitting my fellow gym goers with a powerful sweat-blast every stride I took.
Back to the drawing board.
#2. The Friend-Repeller.
A little internet research told me that for fuller, healthier hair, you should cut down on the number of times per week you wash it. This appealed greatly to my lazy side (aka: my only side), so I immediately rushed out to Sephora and picked up some dry shampoo.
Now, although this method works quite well at making your hair fuller and more voluminous:
Unfortunately, it doesn’t help the fact that you’re a dirty mofo the entire time.. and even Oscar Blandi can’t get the stench of four days worth of smog, oil, and run-sweats out of your hair.
What else we got?
It’s no secret that diet can affect hair growth, and the fact that I’m a seafood-vegetarian with chronically low iron could be impacting my hair in a negative way. Google tells me that salmon, beans, and leafy greens can help this, so I’ve been eating nothing but Salmon/Kale/Lentil smoothies for every meal. The verdict? I hate my life. But I swear I can already feel the hair growing.
#4. Weird Foreign Remedies.
Yesterday over brunch, I was describing my hair-woes to my girl Karen, and she suggested I try the traditional Indian remedy of coating your hair in extra virgin coconut oil. She’s even going to bring me some to our next
date brunch meeting.
She tells me it feels gross, smells awful, and that I won’t want to be around anyone for at least a few days afterwards. I can’t wait!
Question of the Day: Do you have hair troubles?
.. or are you all like that smug baby in the first picture. Just don’t even bother answering if so.
PS: Thanks to all of my new followers and for those of you who read, commented and liked my TIFF post that was Freshly Pressed last week! You guys are seriously jokes. (<;– I don’t know what this means but I heard someone say it the other day and liked the way it sounded. I think it’s a good thing.)