So, a few days ago, my neighbour French braided my hair. It looked SUH-WEET. I've not had hair long enough to do that in years. When she did it, I'd not brushed my hair that morning, and y'all know how long my hair is, right, but it's also incredibly THICK. Kinda like my skull. ;)
For reference on how long it's been since my hair's been French braided, I was in high school. I'm now in my early 40s. My hair has undergone all sorts of torture, hell I was even BALD for a spell when I was 20!
Typically I am content to throw my hair in a messy bun and call it a day. I really don't care for it being down very often (except when it's wet because it takes forever to dry), so I've been bugging my neighbour to braid it sometime. She did once, just a simple ponytail braid, but that came out within hours. A few days ago, she re-braided it, this time in a French braid, like I said, but I didn't have my brush with me so she had to remove the knots by hand. OWWWW!!!! I handled it mostly well, there were a couple times I almost came up off the chair WITH the knots she was trying to work on my head. She'd apologize, and I mean, I wasn't mad at all. It's just startling.
When she was done with it, I, of course, took photos. I was so tickled that my hair looked so damn good again. Now, the caveat to this braid thing is I tend to toss and turn in my sleep. A LOT. It was fairly obvious which side I sleep on because that side was always so messed up. Haha Yesterday, I decided to wear my monster hat because my hair looked a hot mess, half out, and half-braided. No. Just NO. Last night, I decided to take it out, b/c I needed to wash it, anyway and give it a good brushing.
For those of you who don't know, my hair is a pain in my ass. A huge pain in my ass. If you were to come visit and I happen to still be in the bedroom raking a brush through my hair, you'd swear the amount of cursing and grunting coming out of me was either me beating someone up, or having some sort of weird, questionable personal time that even that creepy guy in 'Little Nicky' would've run screaming. Nope, it's just me working through nats in my hair.
Another fun little factoid, I have arthritis in my left shoulder. I cracked my collar bone when I was 20 on a solid walnut bookshelf. LONG STORY. If paid a decent amount of money, I MIGHT be persuaded into telling. ;) But it'll cost ya. Because it's embarrassing.
When I was trying to take my hair out, the bottom part of it up to the back of my head where my skull rounds out, I was fine. When it got to the top parts of the plaits, to pull them out, my shoulder kept giving me grief. I had to ask Shawn to come help me. Seriously, I had to have my own husband come help me take a stupid braid out of my head. FFS. Poor guy was a bit concerned about pulling my hair and warned me that if he pulls, it's not his fault, it's a spot he'd run into some difficulty. No worries, just help. me. PLEASE. I'm dyin' here. I wanna wash my hair, I wanna brush it, I MISS HAVING HAIR, DAMMIT. NOW MAKE WITH THE UNRAVELLING! He got it out, fortunately with no pulling and no pain on my end. So, once that was out, it took another 20 minutes - yes, I'm serious. It took me TWENTY. MINUTES - to brush my hair completely out so I could wash it.
I know what you're thinking, wonderful reader, why don't I just cut my hair to a more manageable length? Snerk. Yeah, that's not gonna happen, I'm afraid. My thing is, I want to at least get the dead ends trimmed off, and I would LOVE to get a good Argan Oil treatment done (I'd so pay to have someone who legitimately knows what they're doing so it's done correctly and my hair doesn't get screwed up, because I'd seriously be pissed if my hair got messed up again*). HOWEVER, getting it completely shorn off to where it's short again? HAHAHAHA How about no.
*First time I'd had someone dye my hair, I wanted it black, and it turned green. I'm still pissed about that, and that was over 20 years ago. So I'm now incredibly picky about who touches my hair! :P
For reference on how long it's been since my hair's been French braided, I was in high school. I'm now in my early 40s. My hair has undergone all sorts of torture, hell I was even BALD for a spell when I was 20!
Typically I am content to throw my hair in a messy bun and call it a day. I really don't care for it being down very often (except when it's wet because it takes forever to dry), so I've been bugging my neighbour to braid it sometime. She did once, just a simple ponytail braid, but that came out within hours. A few days ago, she re-braided it, this time in a French braid, like I said, but I didn't have my brush with me so she had to remove the knots by hand. OWWWW!!!! I handled it mostly well, there were a couple times I almost came up off the chair WITH the knots she was trying to work on my head. She'd apologize, and I mean, I wasn't mad at all. It's just startling.
When she was done with it, I, of course, took photos. I was so tickled that my hair looked so damn good again. Now, the caveat to this braid thing is I tend to toss and turn in my sleep. A LOT. It was fairly obvious which side I sleep on because that side was always so messed up. Haha Yesterday, I decided to wear my monster hat because my hair looked a hot mess, half out, and half-braided. No. Just NO. Last night, I decided to take it out, b/c I needed to wash it, anyway and give it a good brushing. For those of you who don't know, my hair is a pain in my ass. A huge pain in my ass. If you were to come visit and I happen to still be in the bedroom raking a brush through my hair, you'd swear the amount of cursing and grunting coming out of me was either me beating someone up, or having some sort of weird, questionable personal time that even that creepy guy in 'Little Nicky' would've run screaming. Nope, it's just me working through nats in my hair.
Another fun little factoid, I have arthritis in my left shoulder. I cracked my collar bone when I was 20 on a solid walnut bookshelf. LONG STORY. If paid a decent amount of money, I MIGHT be persuaded into telling. ;) But it'll cost ya. Because it's embarrassing.
When I was trying to take my hair out, the bottom part of it up to the back of my head where my skull rounds out, I was fine. When it got to the top parts of the plaits, to pull them out, my shoulder kept giving me grief. I had to ask Shawn to come help me. Seriously, I had to have my own husband come help me take a stupid braid out of my head. FFS. Poor guy was a bit concerned about pulling my hair and warned me that if he pulls, it's not his fault, it's a spot he'd run into some difficulty. No worries, just help. me. PLEASE. I'm dyin' here. I wanna wash my hair, I wanna brush it, I MISS HAVING HAIR, DAMMIT. NOW MAKE WITH THE UNRAVELLING! He got it out, fortunately with no pulling and no pain on my end. So, once that was out, it took another 20 minutes - yes, I'm serious. It took me TWENTY. MINUTES - to brush my hair completely out so I could wash it.
I know what you're thinking, wonderful reader, why don't I just cut my hair to a more manageable length? Snerk. Yeah, that's not gonna happen, I'm afraid. My thing is, I want to at least get the dead ends trimmed off, and I would LOVE to get a good Argan Oil treatment done (I'd so pay to have someone who legitimately knows what they're doing so it's done correctly and my hair doesn't get screwed up, because I'd seriously be pissed if my hair got messed up again*). HOWEVER, getting it completely shorn off to where it's short again? HAHAHAHA How about no.
*First time I'd had someone dye my hair, I wanted it black, and it turned green. I'm still pissed about that, and that was over 20 years ago. So I'm now incredibly picky about who touches my hair! :P