Monday, May 16, 2011
Protective Styles Hate Me! No, really!
I, by no means of natural etiquette/standards have mastered the simple, yet convoluted art of protective stying. This elusive yet eandearing (and oft times forsaken) centuries-old treasure is designed to keep our strands healthy and away from the clutches of the evil breakage monster! (Insert ear curdling scream or haunting music here - whichever you prefer).
I digress. In short: put your hair away & you'll keep it. So I've tried. I REALLY have. As a dancer, I'm automatically prone to consistently having my hair surrendured into up-do's because that's just how we roll. And I love my hair in twists because they're well, springy & I just like pulling them & seeing them pop back. (I am easily amused these days, Sugarlumps).
So, with all this talk on the boards saying it's best to keep your fingerprints off your crown, I suppose my extreme shrinkage isn't such an intolerable diva afterall, since my shirt collars don't serve as pillows to my thirsty coils. And...well, I just love how my hair feels! But I always untwist after only a week! (HIH Syndrome - you got me)! But here's the REAL reason I find it hard to bun up:
Hair pins & those ez comb thingys keep stabbing me in my noggin.
There, now you have it. I am allergic to pain. And I cannot get these tools in my mane without nearly drawing blood. And if I could tolerate blood, I would've become a nurse. Hence the reason I, - oh never mind. I digress. AGAIN.
So here I sit. Me & my once smooth crown (from this morning)staring back at me in anger because I couldn't take the pain and evicted the combs of terror from my skull, thus inviting the Frizz Monster to lay his lazy feet up in my house. Oh well. Maybe one day I'll learn. And only then can I move to the most awesome land of Protective Hands. And yes....I just wanted to rhyme just then.