I have never been able to decide between "curly" and "straight." Even when I had a relaxer I still would spend hours putting my head in spiral curls longing for the natural look. Obviously as a wee Snob I rocked the 'fro. Then as I came of age my mother attacked me with the pressing comb. Eventually I graduated to chemical straighters at 13, but quit them cold turkey at 22. I chopped off all my hair and went au natural. But after going curly I found myself wanted to see my hair straight at times. So it was back to the pressing comb. I've had a ton of other hairstyles not pictured in-between curly and straight (braids, cornrows, dreds, an afro, twists, spiral locks, a bob, etc.) but I mostly flit between long and pressed straight or short and curly.
I have no idea what's my best look. The best picture I ever took is that one on the right bottom corner with my hair nice, natural and curly. But I just recently had the mane pressed straight and cut (because the ends were gnarly and my hair looked disastrous), and I'm once again smitten by rocking a long swishy ponytail. (Which I am as I type this morning.)
My hair is the one thing I will admit to absolute vanity about. I have hair complexes. So many complexes the complexes have complexes. Years of everyone making a fuss over it, including yours truly, have caused me to tie about 80 percent of my appearance into my hair. If my hair looks cute I think I'm gorgeous. If it looks bad, I think I look horrendous. There's no in-between. No matter how embarrassing I enjoy the attention I get for it. Although I do get annoyed by the hair fetishes of some menfolk. Nothing is worse that a dude who acts like long straight hair is magical then whines when he finds out the magic happens with a lot of moisturizer and a doo-rag. I am not white. This shit does not do this by happenstance, Mr. I Wanna Girl With Swishy But Non-Oily Hair. And I refuse to get another perm so you'll have to live with me occasionally smelling like someone set a jar of Dudley's on fire.
My mother enjoys attacking me with a pressing comb from time to time because, bless her heart. She kinds of hates the natural. She loves me, but she always thought my hair looked better straight. The constant lie she would repeat was "It's easier to maintain." Um. No. I have a ton of hair. It's a bitch no matter what I do with it. Unless I rock a baldy, this shizz is going to be work. The reality is she gave birth to a child with a lot of hair. Fell in love with it and how it looked and can't bear to see it any other way than straight. It just "looks better" in her opinion. I'm poor and she'll chastise me for a 99 cent Blockbuster Video rental, but will encourage a $70 visit to the salon. She's got a bad hip and if I so much as look like I'm going to flat iron it, she runs and heats up the hot comb for old times sake. She was enraptured seeing my hair as it is currently in those top three photos. Her hair work from when I was a tyke had return to her in all its straight glory. Hilarious.
It'll be an afro again in two weeks. Hope she takes a lot of pictures.