Of hair and guilt

As most women do now and then, I had my hair done. Cannot really say what I did. For then all would know the secret of my new radiance. Suffice it t say that I now understand how Beyonce, Rihanna, Lil' Kim, Tyra Banks and all those other African American ladies manage to have gorgeus hair that is longer than anything I have seen on an African head. :-D. Now, you might be thinking, "Well, here she goes, another grandiose woman." But no worries, I do not in the least look like any of them. A little shorter and less curvaceous many would agree. Now I have a full head of beautifully soft and glorious hair and plan to enjoy it while it lasts. 

The whole hair thing got me reflecting on the topic of preoccupation with hair. Most women ( I envy the few who are not included) have a love-hate relationship with their hair. Of these women I would say that women of African descent have a more troublesome relationship with our hair. Being bombarded with beauty images, movies and all of women with long flowing hair, we incorporate this idea of beauty into our subconscious. We then strive to achieve it. And believe me, this is no mean feat. The biggest hurdle to our gorgeousness (or so we think), is this amazingly kinky hair the majority of us are born with. See there, "kinky" is the word that is often used to describe the tight curls that cover our heads... and other regions. But is that not a negative word? "Kinky"?  Well, we of course have to go from kinky to soft, flowing and beautiful. The hours and money put inot this endevour are enough to support many kids in any one village with food, shelter and school fees for several years if not a lifetime. 

Having said all that, even though I am usually a sane and reasonable person, I join the insanity of trying to change my hair into something it was not meant to be. And waste resources in the process. But oh! How beautiful the product is! (Sometimes! ;-D). Today was one of those insane behaviour days. 

I struggle with the reality of the selfishness of the hairdo, but marvel at, piroutte and run my fingers through my gloriously soft and long hair. Well, mine for now. And I blame the hairdresser who reminded me of how the money I spent on doing the hair could support several children through school for years for this bad conscience. Maybe I should put to use an equal amout of money for a worthy children's cause everytime I spend on hair? Going to seriously consider this. Maybe with this I will convince my dearly beloved that dreadlocks are a wonderful idea.

Speaking of dreadlocks, why is there still such a big negative fuss about them in Sweden? Whenever I have talked about getting short lovely ones I have been told that it would not be looked upon favourably, especially in my profession. Give that I have not yet reached the self actualization level, I am conforming.