My hair is so fine.  Not like “Mmmm Mmmmm girl, you’re hair is soooo fine!” but like hair you would clip back with a Tinkerbell barrette on a 5 year old.  It has always been that way so I’m not suffering some identity crisis like someone who suddenly loses their nice hair.  My Mom, Sister, and Aunt all have the same unmanageable hair which, with time, we have all learned to cope with in our own way.

I worked on set for 15 hours on Sunday with 20 rambunctious and sugar filled child actors, 25 chattering stage parents and 15 or so overtired hard working crew members.  I stood patiently most of the day following direction and practicing non-reactiveness in an effort to anchor peace into the chaos.  Surprisingly my hair held up pretty well.

When Monday came at long last, it felt a lot like a Sunday to me.  As the lazy morning turned into afternoon, I invited my friend Yvonne, who lives down the hall, over for a late brunch.  Making waffles just feels like something that only happens on Sunday.  I was sitting at my 50’s style burgundy diner booth clicking around on my MacBook when the doorbell rang and the door opened.

Yvonne’s hair is fine, like mine as described earlier, mostly one length just below her shoulders and a natural shade of dark brown.  She doesn’t like to fuss with it too much, so it’s usually not styled but just kinda hanging out.   Yvonne is a comedian and I have already asked for permission to be very candid in my blog. Follow this link to check her out. She actually doesn’t like to wash or even brush her hair on days she doesn’t work. Yvonne also likes to wear very “colorful” outfits that often don’t match and that she brags she got for free or at some thrift store on clearance. She refers to her style as “Hobo Chic”

She has explained that her “eclectic” style is mostly for comedic effect and I have come to respect her choice not to buy into the importance of looking hot, or well put together.  I actually once nominated her for one of those “My friend really shouldn’t be wearing that” shows and she was excitedly on board.  She has a beautiful face and a smokin’ body, so when she cares to she could pass as a movie star.  It is challenging to support her irreverence because I think that in Hollywood she could go far with her talent and good looks.

Entering my kitchen yesterday, she suddenly had long, shaggy beautiful thick rock stair hair with red highlights and wispy sexy bangs.  “Oh my God, your hair!”  I exclaimed.  She looked like a bomb shell and she wasn’t even wearing makeup.  “I hate it.” she said matter of factly.  “The show made me do it.”

Right now she is filming a reality pilot about her addiction to relationships and the producers must not have been a fan of her oily, fine hair.  The show producers recognized that with different hair, she would magically transform into a girl who would turn almost any head in passing, so they rejected her natural hair.  Instead of filming her as she is, they paid a stylist to make her more appealing for TV by sewing in long extensions for 7 hours, adding colorful highlights and chopping in some sexy bangs.  Ironic considering that the whole intent of the show is to help Yvonnne heal on a deep emotional level.  No harm in making her at least look better in the process, right?

I sat looking in awe at my transformed friend and how amazing and hot she looked and thought about how any guy in the world would ask her out and how even if she wasn’t that funny people would probably come to see her do stand up comedy.

“It’s not me.” she said in a defeated tone, “I feel like a stupid poser who’s trying to hard.  I like MY hair.  I like being natural.  I’m taking it out when the show is over.”  It took all of my discipline and patience to accept that my friend hates her fake hair.  I even found myself trying to convince her that it IS her.  Why should I care if she hates it? Why should I care if she doesn’t see the benefit it might bring her?  Why was I resisting her response to this hair?  Have I lived in Hollywood too long?  Have I bought into an industry’s continuing attempts to make everyone on TV look perfectly maintained or do I just want my friend to look hot?  Maybe I think she will be happier this way, I would be happy if my hair looked like that.  Wouldn’t I?   Am I another part in the factory that produces mass amounts of self conscious self loathing teenage girls and replaces their natural sense of self with a desire to achieve unnatural perfection?

I just want to look my best.  I want to have beautiful thick hair, full eye lashes, wrinkle free skin, a skinny waist, and a firm butt just like everyone else.  Yvonne hardly ever wears makeup and I often see her leaving the apartment on her way to a party without having put much thought into it.  She thinks it’s hilarious how differently men and woman respond to her when she is very well put together.  “I want people to like me for me.”  she said.

This blog is meant to celebrate her. Why do we care so much about image anyway?

How are we ever supposed to know ourselves and how is anyone supposed to really know us?   I know Yvonne and she’s a pretty amazing woman with or without $700 of fake hair.

I hope that we can all learn to accept our natural beauty, the beauty in each other, and take the beautiful images we see in the media with a grain of salt.  In that picture to the right I have about $700 worth of extensions and it has been photo-shopped to minimize my wrinkles.  I also cropped out my wide hips.  Smoke and mirrors 🙂

Be Silly.  Have Fun.


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