In Defense of Bad Hair Days

I have difficult hair.
It doesn’t just misbehave from time to time -- it’s more like it’s got Oppositional Defiant Disorder. (I think it must have caught it from my kids!) :)

Halfway between straight and curly, it totally has a mind of its own. I don’t decide how I’m going to wear it -- it makes that decision for me. Just the other day it decided I was going to look like a wannabe country-western singer. Thanks a lot.

Remember those Twist-N-Curl Barbies in the 70s?
My hair’s kind of like that -- thick, wiry, and you kind of push and twist it into place the best you can. I have to spend an unreasonable amount of time just making it look like I did nothing at all (rather than the circus freakshow I woke up like). Not fair. I have a friend who does nothing to her hair. NOTHING. Doesn’t even comb it after she gets out of the shower. And somehow it always looks completely normal. SOOOO not fair!

When I was in junior high (a millenium or so ago) I got so mad at my unruly hair one day I threw my brush at the wall -- and it broke right in half. That was some serious hair rage. Now that I’m a grown woman I’ve outgrown those violent outbursts and take it out in more mature ways (like cursing). Until last week. When I busted my blow dryer. :)

But the question I have is this:
Why is it that a man can go out in public looking a little unkempt, and our society sees that as ultra-manly and super sexy? But a woman goes out uncoiffed and people automatically assume she’s mentally ill? That pressure may be at the very root (no pun intended) of all my hair rage.

I think it’s time to stand up in defense of bad hair days, in all their frizzy, straggly, out-of-control glory. Or start looking for a wig....