ladysprite (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladysprite) wrote2010-03-01 11:08 am
ladysprite) wrote2010-03-01 11:08 am
Entry tags:
Sheer Unmitigated Vanity
Okay. I know I have body image issues, and I spend far too much time talking - in person, if not here - about how much I hate my body. And as much as I try to move past that, and get to the point where I accept my appearance, it's very rare that I'm actually happy with the way I look. So when I am, I'm going to throw modesty and politeness aside and revel in it.
I love my hair.
I love how long, and soft, and fine it is - like silk against my skin when I run my fingers through it, or brushing against my shoulders or the small of my back when I wear a backless dress. I love the color of it, whether it's the glowing-from-inside fiery red when I've just dyed it or the more tame, banked-embers copper as time passes.
I love the fact that I don't need to pile pounds of product into it to make it behave. Wash it, let it air-dry, and run a comb through it, and I don't need to worry about anything else; it hangs like a waterfall down my back. As beautiful and fun as wavy hair is, and as much as I occasionally lament my hair's ability to hold anything like a curl, deep down inside I love its iron-straightness.
And most of all, I love letting people use my hair as a canvas. Looped up in braids, wrapped into twists, or rolled and pinned into indescribable towering confections (thank you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lakshmi_amman!), it is so much fun to be petted and combed and primped, and to see what it, and I, can be transformed into. It's always surprising to me, since I wear it plain and down so often, to realize just how much hair I have and what talented people can do with and to it.
That's all. Just a little bit of brightness and self-indulgent vanity on a gray Monday morning, mostly brought to you by the fabulous Victory rolls I was sporting at last night's show and my remarkable lack of crispy-fried post-show hair this morning....
I love my hair.
I love how long, and soft, and fine it is - like silk against my skin when I run my fingers through it, or brushing against my shoulders or the small of my back when I wear a backless dress. I love the color of it, whether it's the glowing-from-inside fiery red when I've just dyed it or the more tame, banked-embers copper as time passes.
I love the fact that I don't need to pile pounds of product into it to make it behave. Wash it, let it air-dry, and run a comb through it, and I don't need to worry about anything else; it hangs like a waterfall down my back. As beautiful and fun as wavy hair is, and as much as I occasionally lament my hair's ability to hold anything like a curl, deep down inside I love its iron-straightness.
And most of all, I love letting people use my hair as a canvas. Looped up in braids, wrapped into twists, or rolled and pinned into indescribable towering confections (thank you,
lakshmi_amman!), it is so much fun to be petted and combed and primped, and to see what it, and I, can be transformed into. It's always surprising to me, since I wear it plain and down so often, to realize just how much hair I have and what talented people can do with and to it.That's all. Just a little bit of brightness and self-indulgent vanity on a gray Monday morning, mostly brought to you by the fabulous Victory rolls I was sporting at last night's show and my remarkable lack of crispy-fried post-show hair this morning....