Beyonce Wind Machine Hair

April 29, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

Let me paint you a picture. …

This morning I actually took the time to do my hair. And I’m not talking about just combing it, oh no. I ran a flat iron through it, AND … wait for it … styled it by slicking a front piece back with a bobby pin. It took time, placement, patience … talk about motivation on a Tuesday, am I right?

My walk to the train is about 8 minutes, maybe 6 sometimes if I’m really hustling. And yes, I’m usually hustling because I’m notoriously always late. But thanks to this “awesome” spring we’ve been having, I usually have to deal with the elements, whether it is bitterly cold in the morning, raining, or more recently, windy. Like obnoxiously windy where I fear I may get blown off the train platform. But honestly … that is just the beginning of my windssues (see what I did there).

Quite frankly, I think this “April showers brings May flowers” nonsense is a bunch of hogwash. It should be, “April wind storms brings really bad hair days to women.” Nothing infuriates me more than when I see a woman in a gust of wind looking like Beyonce with a wind machine on her. And I see them all the time. Me? Well, my hair usually does this really heinous dance when wind hits it. It’s like swing dancing with hair, except more annoying and less cool. Here are some of its moves:

1. The Fling Around: Makes your hair look like a bad toupee with a weird fake comb over
2. The Smack Across The Face: Need I say more?
3. Low Visibility: Hair gets in your eyes making it difficult to see in front of you (yes, I have walked into things before)
4. The Illusionist: Hair flings to the opposite sides of your face creating a fake beard
5. The Glossy: Hair in lip gloss, my favorite and yours (nothing like the ends of your hair being covered in sticky gloss that you can do nothing about until you shower)

Never once does my hair get flung backwards in some sexy, fantastic super model fashion. Never. Once. I’m always that girl trying to casually keep my shit together as my hair flies around like Medusa. And then you end up on the train, like me this morning, thankful that you no longer are getting blown around like a rag doll, thinking you look just as good as you did when you left the house, only to catch a glimpse of yourself in the train car window to see you have an alfalfa-like piece of hair sticking straight out of your bobby pin. And that is when I quietly removed said bobby pins shamefully, deconstructing all of my hard work.

Sigh, so yeah to the Kate Upton’s of the world who always get caught in the perfect gust of wind, never ruining any hair style you worked so hard on … I hate your face … just a little.

Hey, Remember 90s Hair Accessories?

February 24, 2014.Reading time 5 minutes.

Did anyone else get beat up by the ice cold wind this morning? I mean my hair was all over the place; in my face, in my mouth, straight up doing a ballet around my head. My only fear was that I was rocking an Alfalfa-like hair style after it was all said and done. I would totally be that guy on the train, ear buds in, acting all cool, as I have a piece of hair sticking straight up. It reminds me of the time my fly was down on the train and a verbose old lady announced it to me … AND the entire train car. Old Lady: “Sweetie … :::points to my pants::: and smiles Me: What? Old Lady: SWEETIE … I SAID YOUR FLY IS DOWN!” Good times.

Lucky for me everything was in place, besides my part, which looked like I had dropped acid before doing my hair. Which reminded me of something: Hey … remember the late 90’s/early 2000’s? Seeing this zig-zag part immediately took me back to my days as a kid/tween when the only thing that mattered in life were hair accessories and styles. Like once upon a time, it was REALLY cool to zig-zag your part. I mean if one of the characters on Friends did it, of COURSE it was. Derh. So let me take you back to a time when I only got style tips from stars of ABC’s TGIF, Stephanie Tanner, The Olsen Twins, and Nickelodeon.

Butterfly Clips: Oh yeah, that was the stuff. I mean who WOULDN’T want to slow dance with a girl who twisted little strands of hair and clipped them back with a butterfly clip in order to give her this hallo of glittery clip magic at the top of her head? Am I right?

Scrunchies: There was nothing better in life. Now if you were caught in public rocking one, I’m pretty sure you would get stoned to death. But back in the day I would invest in scrunchies that matched outfits, that were absurdly glitterified, and of course, you just HAD to get ones specifically so you could bunch the side of your Tweety Bird sweatshirt. Stephanie Tanner made this shit exceptionally cool.

Headbands: I wore a headband with pretty much everything I owned from age 4 to around 10. But unfortunately I never wore headbands “properly”. Hmph … don’t ask me why. They were always in the middle of my forehead, and when people would try to fix it for me, I would like hiss at them. But because of how I rocked my headbands, my family insisted upon calling me Jordi from Star Trek. For those of you who don’t know who Jordi is and why they called me this, example A. at the bottom. Sigh … excuse me I have to go call my therapist.

The Britney: Umm hi, if you were at an age to appreciate this music video … you rocked this look, even if it was in the privacy of your basement as you tried to perfect her moves … not like … I did … that … or … anything :::shifty eyes:::.

Bandanas: When I hit puberty and my hair went insanely curly … I turned to bandanas. I only had a few, and I used to think by mixing them with outfits that clearly didn’t match meant that I was turning into Carrie Bradshaw. Clearly. Skinny as a rail, awkwardly tall, palette expander, braces, awful Brillo-like hair … rockin’ the bandana. Cool, self, cool.

Accessories You Had No Idea What To Do With: Like this guy … the spring comb scrunchie. I owned one, who didn’t? But it NEVER worked. And if it did, it never looked right and then would awkwardly pop off in the back. Please tell me why these were “cool”, again?

Beyonce Is Brainwashing Us

August 14, 2013.Reading time 6 minutes.

Phase 1:
Queen Bey chops off her “hair” into a pixie cut which causes hysteria amongst the masses. Breaking News headlines erupted, bloggers went absolutely insane, and even CNN covered the story … must have been a slow news day, huh, kids? No wars … poverty … destruction to cover? No? Alright, Beyoncé’s new do it is.

Me? Well, I wasn’t that shocked. I just assume all celebrities wear weaves, extensions, and/or wigs … because I would if I was famous. And honestly, who the hell can have long, luscious, chemically treated locks that look THAT good ALL the time … am I right? So, again, I just assumed that she took the extensions out and chopped off what was left into a fierce pixie. Not that big of a deal … not that mind-blowing. But according to sources, those long luscious locks were all hers. Mmmm hmmm and I just wake up looking natural beautiful every day. Pa-lease. And if you did, Beyoncé … why didn’t you post pics of the several inches of hair you hacked, hmmm? That moment is totes Instagram-worthy … so what’s the deal?

Brainwashed Status: Psssssh, please :::flips hair:::

Phase 2:
More people start talking about, and by more people I mean everyone in the world. I swear monks that have taken a vow of silence uttered, “did you see Beyoncé cut all of her hair off?!”

I began to get irritated, yet intrigued, over people’s idiotic statements like, “I’m going to sell my tickets to see her concert because what is Beyoncé without her hair?” Umm … whaa? A woman with that kind of endless amounts of dough could make a splash and chop all of her hair off and the next day have a flaming red bob with blunt bangs. I mean, give me a break.

But I couldn’t help thinking about the balls it took to do something so drastic like chopping your hair off. In fact, I found myself bringing it up in conversation: “So how about Bey’s pixie cut, huh?” What was happening?! I curled up in a small ball and began stroking my long, somewhat luscious locks thinking to myself, “I would never hurt you like that.”

Brainwashed Status: Bey is creepin’ on in.

Phase 3:

All it took was one more person.

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, checking my Instagram (no I wasn’t, employer, I was doing … my … job :::thumbs up:::) when I saw one of my favorite models, Coco Rocha, in the process of getting her luxurious locks chopped into a pixie.

What. Was. Going. ON!?

The end product was amazing. She looked fierce. Compared to her pixie, her long hair was yawn worthy and dull. But stop. Wait. She is a model. She is always fierce. But this hair cut put me in a trance. Beyoncé looked amazing, now Coco … maybe I should …

Status: BOOM. BRAINWASHED.

For a hot minute I thought to myself, maybe JUST maybe the big change I needed in my life was to chop off all my hair. Think of how easy the maintenance would be. No more long showers conditioning my long locks, no more hours straightening and flat ironing and curling. I could just shake it out, blow it out, and be done. And then I remembered I had curly hair. And this vision flashed before my eyes for some reason:

What had happened to me?! Had I gone insane. Abso-frikin-lutely I had! I have thick, unruly, kinky curly hair. And I’ve worked YEARS tirelessly to get my hair to this length. Why, sweet Jesus why, would I do something like that to myself?! Sure, if I had a dream team of people who could 24/sev touch up my hair during humid days and constantly reassure me that my head didn’t look ginormous and that I don’t look like a dorky, teenage boy … sure. Yes! Sign me up … but those things just aren’t in the cards now, are they?

Listen, I appreciate the Twiggy throwbacks, but I really hope this doesn’t become a “thing”, because ladies, you need to be a special person to pull off the pixie. You need to think about your personality, your style, what kind of hair you have (curly girls … avoid and use caution), your outlook on life, etc and so forth. Because some women chop of their hair and it only accentuates their beauty, and others … well … yowsa. If we could all have pixie cuts one day and long flowing locks the next like Queen Bey, well, we would, now wouldn’t we?

Sigh. Nice try with the brainwashing, Bey, now if you would excuse me, I need to go whip my long, semi-luxurious locks back and forth for funsies.

True Story: We Don’t Glisten, We Sweat

July 17, 2013.Reading time 5 minutes.

So this is my 3rd year in a row writing about how to survive a heat wave and look chic doing so. And honestly … this year is by far the worst. In fact I was looking back at previous heat wave-related blog posts that I’ve written, laughed, and called myself a wuss.

I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter what you do … unless you are blessed enough to go from air-conditioned place to air-conditioned place … you are inevitably going to look a hot mess during a heat wave, especially one like this.

And because of that fact, I really … REALLY want to kick the girls I see on the train who look refreshed, composed, and put together, because there I am: Sweaty, disheveled, trying to cover up the fact that I’m so out of breath I could die, casually wiping the sweat from my brow, and making sure my hair hasn’t turned into an afro … and then realizing it has and desperately trying to flatten it out. I swear I’m a TRIP to sit next to on the train.

So instead of telling you, “O-M-G LADIES … there is this FAB anti-humidity hairspray that will make your hair not move and you will look INSANELY AMAZEBALLS all day,” I’m going to be real with you. Because when it is 100 plus degrees outside, the only thing I want to know is that there are ladies dealing with the same awful shit that I am, and are not indeed calm, cool, crisp, and collected.

So behold, things I loathe due to heatwaves:

Doing my hair: Why? Humidity is going to make my hair its bitch the minute I step outside to walk to the train, so why should I take the time to put product in it, straight it, and smooth it out. Honestly, I leave my house saying, ” oh yeah, I look good,” only to get to work crying, “why, lord, why” … as I try to make sense of my newly acquired frizz disaster area.

Wearing pants: To hell with them. They are so restrictive and uncomfortable. A pair of jeans hasn’t touched my ass since early June, and I don’t fore see that changing any time soon. By the time I’m walking home from the train I just want to rip them off and run home in my skivvies. Some call that cray … I call it freedom.

Applying makeup: I literally just went to Nordstrom, went up to the Bobbi Brown, my all time fav, counter and said, “make me less shiny.” She then went on to tell me I have rosacea, to which I said, “no no, sweetheart, I’m sweating because I was just shopping in Forever 21 for the past hour.” She apologized immediately. So she gave me some great products, but when you sweat you sweat … and sometimes nothing can take the shine away. I consistently feel sweaty, sticky … like my pores are about to walk themselves to go get a facial. Hell … I might apply my makeup perfectly and go sit in an air-conditioned room, just for funsies.

Running out of dresses: And when you don’t want to wear pants, you turn to dresses … and a dress supply only runs so deep. So I’ve been tasked with getting creative … and literally I’ve gotten to the point where I’m questioning if I look like a skank when I go to work. But it’s too hot to even care. I’m just assuming people will be suffering from heat exhaustion and won’t care.

Accessorizing: I love me some statement necklaces, bangles, cuffs, etc. I love mixing and matching them with different outfits. I love it, I love it, I LOVE IT! But today, for example, the outfit I’m wearing is crying out to be accessorized, but I literally bid my jewels adieu today and went for the all-natural look. Yep. Can’t do it. When I started to sweat under my cuff is when I threw in the towel. Woof.

So there you have it! I’m not going to be one of those people and say, “GOD I can’t wait for winter,” but I REALLY want to. So if you find yourself sweating your face off, miserable next to a girl who is perfectly perfect … know you aren’t alone, sister … and sometimes mister.

Die, Humidity, Die.

May 29, 2013.Reading time 6 minutes.

Maybe it is because I’m living a life sans air conditioning for the first time since college, or maybe it’s because I thoroughly enjoy snuggling under blankets when it is a little chilly … and because I’m afraid monsters might attack me in the middle of the night (issues), but this humidity nonsense is starting to get to me.

I have this theory that it is 100% impossible to look your best when you are surrounded by layers of thick heat. To those of you who live in a glorious climate where such nonsense doesn’t exist, let me give you a slow clap right now followed by an epic eye roll. But for folks like me living near or in a city whose middle name is “smog” and or “humidity” well … yeah … meet us.

Here’s what’s up, though. I wake up in the morning, take a shower, cool off enough to even think about taking a blow dryer or flat-iron to my head. And in between said drying and straightening I have to take t-outs to stick my head in front of a fan for sheer relief every 10 minutes or so. Once my hair is did I then shellacked it down with some sort of anti-frizz bullshit that some teenager at the beauty store talked me in to buying because, “like everyone here is obsessed with it.” Listen … I was desperate for a new product, but like how do you choose? Seriously. Everyone and their mom makes a damn thermal protector, shine enhancer, super straight serum shit, etc. … to the point where I got so overwhelmed that yes … I believed anything that the teenager sales associate with bad hair had to say. Now I’m left with a product called legit “It’s A 10.” Because with a name like that is HAS to be a winner …

So then once I’ve “tame the beast” … it is time to move on to makeup application. And all I can think to myself is, “how can I make this :::circle motion in front of my face::: not so shiny and sweaty looking. So I apply my moisturizer, my foundation, powder to take some of the shine away, bronzer … you get the point … and just when I think I have solved my issue and look somewhat decent … the humidity wipes away my work of art turning me back to a shiny hot mess. Seriously … to the women who can pull of the “dewy” (p.s. I LOATHE that word, but I have no other way to say it) glow … I effing hate you. Why is it that when I get attacked by high temperatures I look like an overweight dude who just ran five miles in a velour sweat suit? Like seriously I just don’t get it.

Fast forward to the end of the day and … my gawd. Exhaustion takes over from trying to exist like a normal human being in ridiculously hot conditions, I’m sweating and there is probably a good chance that I could smell, any sort of makeup has melted away, and my hair is a wild, frizzy disaster area. Cool. Welp … what do I do? I OWN IT. Yeah I said … suck on that, humidity.

Today I was playing with my hair, trying to pull it to one side, taming it down violently so I didn’t resemble a wild rabid beast … but I finally just said fuck it. Carrie Bradshaw, as cliché as this may sound … bear with me … didn’t give a shit. She had wildly insane HUGE curly hair and she owned it. So instead of trying to fix an unfixable problem since they don’t make hair straighteners that you can plug into your car (and if they do … please point me in their direction), I flipped my hair upside down, ran my fingers through it and tried to embody the confidence of Carrie Bradshaw … minus all the puns and “I couldn’t help but wonders.”

True … I still have yet to solve the, “I look like sweaty death,” problem … but I just invested in another spray tan because life is just slightly better when you’re sun kissed, so I’m hoping this will help. Listen we can’t look like golden Gods every day of the week … no matter how hard we try. So when the humidity gets you down … you just gotta flip that frizzy nightmare of yours around and walk with a stride of pride. This is what’s up: I’m hot, exhausted, probably jonsin’ for a frothy cocktail, and I look like frizzy hell … what up, world?

Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra

Tag: Hair