LEMONADE WAS A POPULAR DRINK AND IT STILL IS

Hi, My name is Alexis, and my hair hates me.

Yes i know the statement following the title is a bit of a non sequitur but ive been on my vintage hip hop hard the past few days. At first it was just something to prove:

"i don't just listen to classic soul, 80s R&B, 90s new jack swing and classical!"

But then it was like oh snap i forgot how much i loved hip hop, so now im just going through the years and reliving my childhood/teenage days with hip hops sugar cuts. Unfortunately that one line from dwyck got stuck in my head, and im hearing Guru's voice repeating this phrase over and over in my mind. Now as i embark on hour number three i figure the only way to exorcise it is to type it out.

...

ok. i'm still hearing it. I'll give it to whenever it is im finished typing out this entry and then its off to the kitchen for some sweet lobotomy action.

So back to my spiteful tresses. They're long, they're thick, they're basically everything a head of hair should be. I know this because my bottle of pantene pro-v tells me so.

Yet and still, despite my loving care and daily ablutions, they seem to harbor some deep seated resentment towards me, which means we are at a tipping point. Somewhere along the way, i stopped wearing my hair, and my hair started wearing me.

Normally i don't talk about my hair much, because me talking about my hair = complaining, and my complaining about it always elicits the same reactions:

"shut up."
"girl please"
"are you kidding me?"

...Or variants thereof. Folks don't have too much patience with me when i start bellyaching about something that for all appearances seems to be just fine.

Admittedly the lack of forbearance is completely warranted.

I remember calling my SO one saturday afternoon, in tears, after one of my quarterly visits to the salon:

*sniffle.*"..baby?" *sniffle*
"whats wrong?"
*sniffle* "my hair"
"what happened? Did they cut too much off?"
"no...i didn't let them cut."
"then...whats wrong?"
"she just didn't do it right, i wanted it all bouncy and she made it too flat"
"alexis."
"what?"
"why do you go to the salon? you never like the way do it"
"ugh you don't understand. im going to go home and try to fix it. i'll call you later."

Bless his heart. I know i drove him crazy with my tears for fears bit that occurred just about every time i went to the salon. Its conversations with him, and just about everybody else with whom im close, that make me realize that discussions in which my hair is the topic dujour are not welcome.

Which is why blogging is so cool, im free to harangue ad nauseam, you're free to read and assess. You can roll your eyes and condemn, or nod your head and commiserate. Its like NATO except it really works. And if it gets to be too much you can log off. I mean its really up to you.

8th grade was a year of firsts, i got my first relaxer, my first hair cut, and my first kiss. His name was artie. He was cute. Three years later my cousin and I ran in to him and she asked him if he remembered me and he was all "i...vaguely remember an alexis." Actually he said "a alexis", but i hate bad grammar so i couldn't bring my to type it.

Vaguely? funk YOU. I rocked your world buddy. Anyway he was cornier than i remembered so it was whatever.

But back to my eighth grade hair. The cut was one of those asymmetrical thingamabobs that everybody had back in the day(ugh i can't believe im old enough to even have a back in the day) and i just had to have hair like that too. Nevermind that my hair was luxurious and cascading down my back and full. I begged my mom to get it done and she capitulated.

"Alexis you have beautiful hair, people pay to have hair like yours and you want to cut it!?"

"Yes!"

I spent the remainder of my school years bemoaning my loss of hair with the stupid cut. I let my hair grow out of the style, but kept the relaxer. I wondered why it never returned to its former glory.

Eventually i had a moment of clarity. i decided to let the relaxer grow out and cut my hair into a katie holmes bob -minus the bangs - in 1998. Wow...i can't believe its been ten years since my hair has been touched with perm.

In 1998 i started hanging with some cool girls and they introduced me to gold n' hot flatirons. I became a flatiron junkie and the koreans at the hair supply store were my pushers. At one point i was flatironing my hair three times a day. "touch ups" i called them. Yes, i was a true fiend. And with every "bump" i was weakening and breaking my hair. My mom asked me to stop, but no. My hair didn't say anything and silently took the abuse. The result was that my hair stayed coko from swv smooth, but never grew past my shoulders.

I figured that i was just destined to be one of those women who would talk about how long their hair used to be:

"when i was little? my hair used to be down to here.." *points to ankle*

and you listen and nod your head meanwhile youre thinking

"yeah right..."

So i had resigned myself to being one of "those" women. Not that anything's wrong with that. Anyway around 2001 i saw the light(again) and decided to stop fretting with my hair. And like a phoenix from the ashes...slowly but surely it started growing back.

I remember going to work one day, and a colleague was like "is that all your hair?" all incredulous. Yes hater this is all my hair. She was white, so i took a little offense at her comment. What? Black folk can't grow hair? Lets not be racist judy. I mean yeah i enjoy the impressing the heck out of folks with my hair growing skillz, but i want you to be impressed for the right reasons. Be impressed because i have nice hair, not because im black with nice hair. Ugh.

Fast forward to 2008 and my hair, when its blown out, is totally in the middle of my back - and still growing. Save for the miss jessie's debacle of late 2005, I've been wearing my hair long since that day of enlightenment in 2k1. It stops just short of the length it was when it was before i got my first cut.

I'm sick of it though. The style, the length...everything. At its length theres really not much to do with it. For the past 3 weeks whenever i go out its in a bun. Its elegant and shows off my graceful swan neck, but boring. I look like an extra from a balanchine production. I've become the girl with the bun.

My sister recently cut her hair into a modified rihanna. Its cute, and im a little jealous. She too had long luxurious locks, and in one swift stroke, decided she was done with em and wanted something different.

Me? I've lost the nerve to do something with my hair. The thought of experimenting with a new style makes my blood run cold. I'm 20+ years old. I might experiment and that ish go all wrong. After the miss jessie's incident i can't take another hair misshap. My psyche is too frail. Besides, i remember what my mother told me so many years ago.

"alexis you really need to pay your bills on time. you're going to ruin your credit!"

Oh wait. Wrong memory.

"people spend money to get what you have!" (There we go.)

True.

Im not tryin to be conceited or boastful or nothing. I inherited this honest and im proud of it. I mean, some people have great legs or to-die-for bosom. Some can sang, some have the intelligence of einstein. Maybe they're a good public speaker. Some people are beyonce. The point is, we all have different assets. I have nice hair.

Its just that my hair hates me. I wanted it to be long again, and now that it is, im over it. The maintenance, the arduous process of washing, combing, blowing dry and styling is just too much. Plus i have 50 different textures and curl patterns. Part of my hair is like kunta kinte, another is margaret thatcher, and yet another is tracee ellis ross. There's more but you follow the general idea.

I need like five combs with teeth in varying widths just to get the job done. And all that for what? A ponytail or chignon? My sister keeps telling me to get layers and maybe thats what i should do. But then i'll go to the salon and tell my stylist im considering cutting my hair, and she gets this greedy look. The eyes don't lie. She's itching to take 6 inches off my length i know. So i see her look and say maybe next time(which never comes) just so she can calm the heck down. She gets all crestfallen and does my hair in "the usual" which means my curls are going to fall out by the time i walk to the car.

So summer is around the corner and with it comes humidty and with humidity comes all kind of hair unruliness. Im going to have to get a hair strategy or else it will be another summer with my hair slicked back robert palmer girl style, or wearing a slightly less wild teyana taylor.