curls rock

I haven’t always had curly hair. My hair was board straight brown in all my elementary school pictures. I can’t recall exactly when this changed, but suddenly my hair took off in different directions. I didn’t mind and thought this matched my personality which had gone from super shy to more outgoing. But for reasons unbeknownst to me, I was encouraged by family and friends to not only straighten my hair, but lighten the color a bit. That was easier said than done.

I’d smooth, they’d bounce. I’d straighten, they’d twist. And in order to lighten my color, I would need to bleach my hair and then add color back. That didn’t make sense to me. I really didn’t care enough to blow dry my hair straight all the time, much less use cleaning chemicals on my head. I honestly loved my dark, rich curls, but was led to believe straighter and lighter was better. By the time my senior high school pictures were taken, my hair was huge and represented the 80’s I grew up in. (Cue song “Girls just wanna have fun!”)

Fast forward to my college years where I let my curls grow long, wild and free. They were unmanageable at times, but so was life with all my classes and new responsibilities. I learned to tie my hair up in a bun as needed and kept a variety of claw clips and scrunchies with me wherever I went.

The best time for me and my hair was when I was pregnant. It got thicker and hadn’t turned gray yet. My joy at finally being pregnant was off the charts. Once again my hair represented life. I was an ecstatic mama-to-be.

My son was born with slick, brown hair and not a curl in sight. But slowly, this changed for him too. As he began to smile and laugh, his hair started to darken and curl on the edges and around his little ears. Soon the curls wrapped his adorable face like a puffy afghan. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he wished his hair was blond and straight. Hmm. I’d walked this road and didn’t realize I was still on it. I reminded him over and over his hair was beautiful and matched his vibrancy perfectly.

What got me thinking about all this recently was my 50th bday. As a gift, a best friend booked me a private 3-hour hair appt with a curly hair specialist. She had discovered Josephine several years back and really liked her. She knew I would resist the trouble and expense, so she had carefully thought out every detail from how to present the idea to driving me to the appt and back. This led to some sweet conversations with both her and my husband, who wanted to be sure this felt like a gift and not an intervention.

I really didn’t know what to expect and didn’t expect much. But I trusted my friend’s heart and intentions. I’d long neglected my hair and often told her I didn’t like how it looked or felt. She too had been there. She encouraged me to think about what I wanted from the appt and to find pictures to go with it. I told her the only time I liked my hair was when it was blow dried straight and then curled, so that’s what I wanted. She kindly explained that isn’t what Jo does. She works with natural curls and brings them to life. Hmm.

Basically, I went to the appt to appease my friend. I sat in the chair and chatted with her and Jo, barely paying attention to what she said or did as far as my hair. I flipped my head back and to the side as instructed, but didn’t look at the mirror once. I wondered when she’d be finished, so I could tell her I liked it to be nice.

It turns out, Jo is an artist and, I daresay, a curly hair miracle worker.

Not only did I love my natural curls again for the first time in a long time, I realized something. I had allowed culture and society and other people to shape my opinions, instead of loving what I love. God gave me these curls. And since my son was born, I had focused on how much my hair had thinned, instead of the joyful curls hiding underneath. My hair will keep getting thinner and grayer. I hope I will get wiser, more grateful, and more free along with it. And be the kind of friend who goes out of her way after listening.

~Diane xo