Yes, you may all bow down to my natural red-headedness now. ;) I love my hair, because it’s the one part of me that is still just as beautiful as it was when I was 21, before having three kids and no time to work out. My hair has never betrayed me. And it’s red. What’s not to love?
OK, back to my usual, more humble, self. My hair is somewhere between strawberry blonde and auburn. I have natural highlights that, according to whoever I make a last-minute appointment with for a haircut, other women pay a lot of money to acheive. It grows fast, is fine and soft but thick, and (I may have mentioned this) is red. The only thing I don’t like about my hair is that it doesn’t “do” anything. It doesn’t hold a curl, it doesn’t stay in clips or barrets, and if there’s even a bit of rain or humidity, it gets all frizzy. In winter, I could kill people with static electricity. So, on a nice dry day my hair is awesome—the stuff of shampoo commercials. On every other day (the majority of days), it ends up in ponytail because it drives me crazy. I’ve never wanted to color it, but that has as much to do with me being afraid of a hair disaster than anything else.
So yeah, I’m more than a little vain about my hair. It makes me feel better about being unable to get a tan, being covered in freckles, and having this body that doesn’t seem to really belong to me anymore. I’m not really into makeup or having my nails done, don’t care much about clothes or shoes or handbags—but I do love my hair, even on the days when I hate it.