Throwback Thursday




Yup, I’ve always had them, and they have always been there.  Growing up, I always hated my curly hair.  I was the only one in my family whose hair was in tight little springs.  I wanted pin straight hair like my mother and sisters.  I wanted to be able to put a pretty ribbon in it, or wear it in pigtails without it looking like two Brillo pads fixed to the side of my noggin.  I wanted to be able to wear a headband and not have it get lost in the rat’s nest that rested at the top of my head.  To make matters worse, my mom had NO CLUE what to do with kinky hair like mine, so most of the time she tried her hardest to comb it out (I’ve been hit upside the head with a brush a couple of times in my life) and hoped for the best.  I remember getting my hair straightened for the first time (thanks to a relaxer that I will NEVER EVER do again!), and standing in front of the mirror for hours on end just brushing it, flipping it, swinging it back and forth.

curls curls



My hair was so tangled and matted when I was younger, that instead of combing treatment through my waist length hair after my cousin in Puerto Rico gave me head lice, my mother took scissors to my 6-year-old head, and cut it all off!Then she took my grandfathers electric hair cutting razor and took a #5 to my head.  Talk abouttraumatizing!  I cried for days and felt so naked in the hot PuertoRican sun.  My poor head burned so bad that year, I swear I’m still picking dead skin out of it 25 years later. I was made fun of constantly for it, and people would throw things in my hair and snicker about it when I would shake my head out later and erasers, gum wrappers, pencil shavings, and even the occasional gummy bear would fall out if it.  I punched someone in the face for it once, and that was the end of that!

As I grew up, maybe around 17-18, I started to realize how lucky I was to have such interesting and uncommon hair.  I started to love my curls.  I let my hair fall out of my trusted bushy ponytail as I began to read things and learn to take care of it.  This was still in the age of dial-up internet, and I would wait sometimes 10 minutes for a page to load so I could find out cool things to do with egg whites and olive oil and mayonnaise to make my hair super shiny and super healthy.  Over the last 10-12 years or so, I have done some pretty outrageous stuff to my hair.  I’ve died it orange.  I’ve had just the bottom half a bright candy apple red.  I’ve had it as short as an inch all around.  I’ve worn it in an Afro, and cornrows and have even had a shape-up/line-up/fade at one point.  I love twisting it around my finger, and letting the wind whip through it while I drive with my windows open.  I love how easy it is to do.  I wash it, throw some leave in conditioner in it, shake it out and walk out the door.  And lets not even talk about how excited I get about beach hair!  It’s truly THE BEST!

redshortcut  braidafro

With the idea of carrying one of Callie’s eggs so that our children are biologically related comes a little bit of sadness sometimes (not often enough to change my mind though) because I won’t see my brown eyes (not that Levi’s blue ones or Noah’s hazel ones aren’t AMAZING to get lost in), or my gap toothed smile (something else that took me a while to embrace and grow into), but especially this curly, kinky, outrageous, matted, spiral, cork screw of a hot mess mop on their head.  Who knows!?!  Maybe our next “little” will be a girl, and they’ll have Callie’s banana curls, which is what our kids would have looked like had we been able to biologically take a piece of me and a piece of her.  Either way, these curls are EVERYTHING and they give me life and add so much to my personality. I mean, I AM pretty wild and crazy, so why shouldn’t my hair be! Well played Universe, well played…