OMG, I nearly died when Blake Lively revealed how she views her hair. I was totally not interested in how the former Serena van der Woodsen and current Mrs. Ryan Reynolds achieves those big, full waves or how much coconut oil she slathers on her ends to keep them conditioned and healthy. I was, however, totally happy and actually comforted to hear Lively say that her hair is her safety net and her protective curtain.
Whew. So I'm not the only one. Of course I'm not.
Lively spoke out about her beauty routine and her relationship with her hair, saying, "Honestly I am a shy person. My hair is a safety net for me, so I love to have it down and full and relaxed. Often you see people on the red carpet with tight updos, but that makes me feel stiff."
Girl, you are speaking my vocab and all of my buzz words. I personally never, like, ever wear my hair up, save for a high and tight pony, which I do when I am sweeping, mopping or vacuuming the house, since my bulldog Higgins tends to shed tiny hairs from his fur, and due to his face shape, he drips water from his chin after he drinks, leaving little dots all over my hardwood floors, so there is maintenance and upkeep to be done at the crib.
But back to my hair, not his. No one, other than my son-with-paws, sees me when I do the rare, chore-forced pony. Ever.
My hair is my curtain of defense. I have majorly long, face-framing layers with angled sides, and about 28 inches of length — I once measured it with a ruler for shits and giggles. I have bangs (and fake shorter ones in between trims). I wear headbands whenever I want a little volume at the crown. But as much as I love the look of a messy topknot, you know, the kind Miley Cyrus used to own before she lost her mind and chopped off her hair, I never twist mine into one, no matter how hot and humid the weather or climate. I'd rather deal with a sweaty neck than get rid of my protective veil.
I hate it when I get a manicure and the kindly nail technician offers a quick back and shoulder rub afterwards, while my nails are drying. She ALWAYS pulls my hair off my shoulders when she is done, leaving me to wiggle and maneuver, since my nails are wet, to get it back where it belongs — framing my face.
Even my old roommate of a decade used to joke that if I was some sort of employee with government clearance and found myself in enemy hands, my captors would not need to resort to physical means to get me to spill the classified information. All they would need to do is come at me with hairdressing shears and I'd talk. Sadly, that's true, so be glad I'm a civilian!
I am gripped, happily so, by the need for my hair to frame my face. It's not a matter of hiding anything, like ears that stick out or something. Those are fine, flat, and have cool piercings that might be fun to show off.
It's not a matter of wearing it in my face because I have problems with my features; you can see my eyes, lips, nose, and everything else just fine. The face is the picture; the hair is the frame. They co-exist.
It's not that I had too many bad haircuts, either. Sure, I've had a few I've regretted, and while in college, I rocked an asymmetrical bob. While I loved the fashion-forward cut, I didn't love it on me. My face shape, which is includes a strong, squarish jaw, requires long hair to surround it. When I look in the mirror, I feel my face shape is enhanced by my hair.
It's not that I am shy, either. I like talking to people and making eye contact. I have appeared on TV. I hosted an AOL Music hard rock podcast with multiple cameras for over a year. I'm totes fine when all eyes are on me.
Put simply, I have an attachment to my hair. It's my security blanket and my follicular shield. If I say something dumb, which I am prone to do, or trip and get embarrassed, I sometimes bury the lower half of my face in my hair. If someone is saying or doing something silly and I want to express my reaction to someone else covertly, I do this little thing where my hair falls forward and hides my eye roll or my smirk from those I don't want to take notice.My hair is my protector. It's the little things. I wish I could understand the further psychology behind it. All I know is that I don't like it when my hair is off my face.
You know, it could simply be the fact that I am blessed with good hair. No, really. Not sound obnox, at all, but I have poker straight, shiny, and glossy hair. It's like a dark brunette version of my hair icon Jennifer Aniston. I could give myself a home perm — I know, who would do that nonsense in 2014? — and my hair would be as straight as it was before I applied the chemical solution. The only way I can get beachy waves in my hair is to wash it, spritz it with one of those salt sprays, loosely braid it, and sleep with it that way. I shake it out in the AM and I have instant bedhead. But it takes me a minute (or hundreds) to get there. Most women want this kind of super-sleek hair. Lucky me, I know, and clearly, I do NOT take it for granted.
I guess I sort of look at it like this. Massive, Jackie O.-like, black sunglasses are my other signature. I wear those for a specific reason besides the fact that they look amaze and I want to protect the delicate skin around my eyes from sun damage and it's this: I can see out but you can't see in, until I want you to. Maybe my hair is just a part of that mystery?
Okay, no more self-analysis. These are some other like-stranded celebs that never seem to go the topknot route.
The coif queen Jennifer Aniston. Those are some flawless follicles.
The great Kate Middleton is often more down than up.
Kristen Stewart isn't afraid of updos, but the perennially sour-pussed red carpet walker always looks a little more comfy when her hair is down and hugging her face.
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