There I was, just like every morning, standing in front of the bathroom mirror putting on my black eyeliner. Pretty eyes are my armor, my superstitious belief is that black eye liner will protect me from harm. I’ve been harmed, sometimes badly, on multiple occasions, so I’m not sure my belief in the magical properties of black eyeliner is particularly well founded. Still, my black eyeliner is a sort of talisman. It goes on no matter what. My eyes are the physical attribute which I never question. I always know I’ve got great eyes. <\/p>\n
As I got ready to leave, I caught a look at my tousled rat’s nest of hair in the mirror. I forgot to brush my hair. Again. I briefly considered brushing it, but as I frequently do, I ended up saying fuck it, and walked out the door while working the worst of the tangles out with my fingers.<\/p>\n
I wish I could say that going to work with my hair not combed is a rare event, but it happens on a very regular basis. I probably go to work without combing my hair more often than I go to work with my hair done. Always with my eyes done, though. Always. The eyes get done even if I’m sick. Even if I am woefully un-rested. I have black eyeliner in my purse, and back up eyeliners in all of my various pieces of luggage. I am uncomfortable if I’m ever in a situation in which I discover I am without it. Even if it’s a football game. I don’t ever use the backup eyeliner. It’s a total mental crutch.<\/p>\n
The thing is, my hair is new to me. I’ve lived my whole life with thin, stick straight, shiny brown hair. Now it’s wavy and not so shiny and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like I have someone else’s hair now. It kind of puzzles me when I see it in a mirror. I know what to do with my eyes. I’ve had them forever. My hair? It’s a mystery. I’ve only had it for a few years. <\/p>\n
What’s funny is that I’ve always wanted wavy hair. Now I have it, and I have no clue what to do with it. I know what to do with straight, shiny hair. I don’t know what to do with this wavy, tangled mess. I didn’t grow up dealing with it. It’s like learning how to deal with a new boyfriend.<\/p>\n
Like other things, I’ve had to give up something to gain something else I wanted. Nothing is free. <\/p>\n
If you want a high profile career, you will probably have to give up a lot of family activities. Or delay having children. If you have a hobby like running marathons, you might have to limit your interactions with friends and family when you are putting in 10-plus mile runs every week. You definitely have to give up a lot if you’re doing something as time consuming as a half-marathon or marathon. That is really all you have time for if you have a full time job.\t \t <\/p>\n
Sometimes, like with hobbies, you can make a conscious choice. Other times, like with hair, you take what you get.
\nEither way, you get something you want and lose…something.
\nNo one gets to have everything.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it seems like they do, though, doesn’t it?<\/p>\n
So you just kind of suck it up. If you have so few real problems that having different hair is even on your radar as something to complain about, then you are lucky. <\/p>\n
More than lucky.<\/p>\n
I have a job that I mostly enjoy that pays very well, a family and friends who are great and a working brain and body. In the overall scheme of things, I have nothing to complain about.<\/p>\n
Mostly, I try not to.<\/p>\n
But…if I could just figure out what to do with this hair….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"