(This post is my entry for Dove and Indiblogger's 'My Beautiful Hair story' contest. Read and enjoy. :D )
Born into a Punjabi family, my hair is thick and black. Not much to complain of, eh? But the thing that saddened me most whilst growing up was their lack of lustre. My hair was dull. Boring. Lifeless. As if it was going through the emotional upheavels of teenage for me. I oiled them, brushed them, used all kinds of fancy shampoos and fancy conditioners but to no avail. The limpness never left. It was like my whole being was sad and depressed owing to my hairstyle. I would be all joyous and full of life, but the sad mop on my head would reflect gloom.
It was during those days that artificial smoothening and re-bonding came to town. My mouth watered at the sight of the poster-girl's tresses. Pure silk! Long and smooth! And look at that shine! Enough to make anyone's day brighter! So I saved my pocket-money for months and coaxed my parents into lending me some money to get my hair back. Going into the parlor, I was sure I would walk out a truly transformed person. And so I did! For the first time in my life, I was in love with the way my mane looked and shined and bounced! It was dificult to keep my eyes off it! 'Oh why couldn't I have done this before?', I asked myself. I would wear my hair open like a crown and roam around flaunting it all through the final year of school. Whether it was in the Sun or in the rain, my hair was always about me like my very own customized robe. It was heaven.
A rude shocker sent me crashing down to Earth. My hair were shedding. The signs were there since a few months now but I had ignored them. Nothing could happen to my beautiful hair, I thought, they were invincible. It turned out I was very wrong. Every day they'd fall, in the bath, on the sink, by the dozen. I went back to my old habit of oiling, but it didn't help this time either. I was shaken and upset! I could no longer keep my hair open for fear of damage. What's more, my parents scolded me for spoiling them! They said it was all due to the harsh chemicals used in the treatment. I couldn't help but agree with them. Not only had I subject my hair to damage, I had also wasted close to 15k of my parent's well earned money. I was deeply troubled. My hair were falling and I could almost see a bald-patch. What more, the ends had started to frizz out giving me the look of an Indian 'baba'.
With no hopes of a recovery, I set out to get my hair chopped. The long Rapunzel-like tresses that I had become used to loving. Sorry, Prince Charming, but this would be the end of it. Sigh.
As I sat down in the salon, looking at my reflection in the mirror, a lone tear escaped my eye. O vanity, thou art cruel. Noticing my despair, the hairdresser asked me what was wrong. I started explaining to him how I had been a fool and messed up my hair. 'So is that why you're chopping them all off?', he inquired. 'Yes. There's nothing else to be done', I replied morosely. To my surprise, he stopped cutting and came around to talk to me. He explained to me that simply cutting off my hair wouldn't be the solution to my problems. It would be only an easy way of not dealing with the problem, a short-cut. He advised I visit a dermatologist at the earliest to consult about the hair loss. 'As for the damage, I recommend this', he procured an indigo blue bottle from the shelf and handed it to me. As I gazed at the bottle and listened to the hairdresser's advice, my spirits rose. I felt that I could rectify my mistake, it was not too late.
'So, should I resume cutting or not?', he asked with a smile.
'No, let's just get it trimmed for now', I said, beaming.
The next day, I visited a dermatologist and told her all about my hair trouble.
She looked calmly into my face and told me that the cause of all my hair woes was lack of nutrition. 'Beauty comes from good health, my dear', she said.
I blinked. In all the years of worrying about my hair and looks, it had never occured to me that there was more to hair-care than just washing and oiling. I had to be aware of the nutritional needs of my strands, which, in turn, were specific to my hair-type and routine. Beauty is skin-deep, literally.
That day marked a re-awakening of sorts. I gave up placing bets on fancy beauty products and treatments and started giving my hair a new life with better nourishment. With some research, I was able to find the products that did more good to my hair than harm.
I became a smart consumer
and that was the end of all my hair problems.
|every day is a happy hair day :)|
Today, armed with the right tools and knowledge, I'm not afraid to play with my locks. I take them out for a swim, into the Sun, for a date with a curling rod or on a rendezvous with colours.
Stop fretting and start being hair-smart!
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