Me? I Just Oil My Hair Is All....#HairyTales

There are Fridays and then there are FRIDAYS. Yesterday was of the latter kind.

If you have been a regular reader of my blog then you must know a fair bit about my hair troubles by now. For those who aren't, I'm always there to recount those tales for you. So, yesterday something happened that made me think of an incident that happened long back in the year 2008. Yes, an incident related to my hair, what else?

It was early 2008; just a few months into my work life in Bangalore. My solo journey in the big bad world had just begun. How bad was it really? Well, I was about to find out, wasn't I? And that too on a sunny afternoon outside an ATM Vending Machine. So, this is what happened? As I stood in a long queue to withdraw some cash, the lady behind suddenly called out saying ‘Excuse me Miss. Hope you don’t mind but you know you have really awful hair? I pity you’. Yes she said that on my face and in so many words. For a moment I stood there, staring at her, trying to figure out if she was someone I knew but I didn’t. I felt insulted and puzzled being told off by a complete stranger. Falling short of words I turned away, withdrew money and headed home with a head of despicable hair.

That was about 7 years ago but I have actually been struggling with my curly hair ever since I can remember. A hairy heart break is what it has always been for me. But everything that is becomes everything that was one day. So, how long could this status quo continue? And just like that, I woke up one day with a new found acceptance for my brittle, dry and unmanageable hair. Alright, it didn't happen overnight but the bottom line is it did happen. Just like that I realized I was in love with my curls.

And yesterday something happened that reinforced this love further. It was late afternoon, a Friday, the weekend almost there. As a rule, everybody was in a good mood already and so was I. But what happened next improved my mood by many folds.

I was washing my hands when suddenly a woman entered the washroom. I didn't notice at first but she kept stealing glances at my hair. For a moment, the clock turned back and placed me at the ATM queue once again. Was the acceptance finally wavering, those doubts about my hair resurfacing? A voice suddenly brought me out of my reverie. It was she saying 'How do you maintain your curls? I try but it never works.'

Imagine me standing there, wide eyed. Flummoxed is the right word perhaps. I didn't know what to say. Would hugging her be the right response? No, I guess not. What could I tell her? It seemed like ages before I spoke but I finally did. Told her I don't do anything special except oiling my hair. Of-course, I couldn't stop there, could I? So, I went on to add that if I don't oil my hair it keeps standing, defying gravity. That I guess was a little too much information, something she didn't need to hear. But it was a gaffe worthy of being overlooked for my hair story had finally come full circle. 

No, I still don't have Rapunzel's hair and that's fine. What I have is my very own brand of curly hair that defines me, makes me unique and I'm finally very content with. If today I meet that woman from the ATM queue, I would tell her just that!

Tell me your hair story now. Go on!


Linking this to Write Tribe's 100 words on Saturday. Yes, I know it's more than 100 words but I just couldn't stop!