Sister Golden Hair Surprise

Not long ago I spoke at a book club for my adult novel, Fly Me to the Moon, and as I was signing books, a woman walked up to me and said, “Where’s your curly, frizzy hair?”

My hand immediately sprang to my head, smoothing my flat-ironed locks as I bit down on my lip, her disappointment ringing loud and clear. “Believe me,” I assured her. “It’s still there, still obstinate with a mind of it’s own. It’s just temporarily subdued for the evening, it’ll be back in full force by morning, I swear.”

I’m used to people thinking that book is autobiographical. After all, like the protagonist I too was a flight attendant and now I’m an author, but that’s all I’m willing to cop to. Well, that and my character’s temperamental hair.

Growing up, I never really thought much about my hair. It was long, wavy, and present. Demanding to be washed more often than I liked, but other than that, it went mostly ignored.

And then came seventh grade, and suddenly, it refused to do anything right, like it was plotting against me, sabotaging all of my efforts, clearly out to get me, and sadly things haven’t changed much since.

I’ve done just about everything a person could possibly do to their hair—
Big eighties perm? Check.
Japanese straightening? You bet.
Home dye job gone wrong? Um, yes.
Blonde ambition turned Brassy Rendition? Sad but true.

And after all these years, I still can’t figure out just what it should be when it grows up.

My best friend never changes her hair. Oh sure she may trim a few inches, before growing it back out a few more, but basically, it’s exactly the same as it was back in eighth grade. “Hey,” she says, smiling. “When it works, it works.”

And even though it definitely does work for her, I just couldn’t do it. It would feel too much like surrender, as though I was forfeiting the game before it really got started. So as long as I’ve still got the fight in me, it’ll continue to be my own personal work in progress.


So how about you? Any hair neuroses you’re willing to cop to??

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Pretty Persuasion

I have this friend, she’s a mother of two adorable girls. And every night before they go to bed they play this game where they name a part of themselves that they like, and then explain why it’s perfect. I love this. When my friend told me about it, I actually cried. Of course, I pretended it was just steam rising up from the Jacuzzi, but the truth was, I was touched.

I didn’t grow up loving much of anything about myself. I felt awkward and obtrusive and wondered why I got stuck with wavy hair when my friend’s all had straight hair (okay, I still battle with this). But the thing is, nobody ever sat me down and made me write an ode to my baby toe. And I can’t help but wonder if it would’ve made a difference. My friend’s daughters are wonderful, and confident, and charging through life, and if they’re any indication, I’m thinking it would.

Growing up in California, a place where Christmas can find you wearing shorts and heading for the beach, you can’t help but be a little body conscious. There’s no hiding under big winter coats and bulky sweaters when it’s short sleeve weather for most of the year. But even if you don’t live in a warm weather place, there’s still that pervasive celebrity culture we’re constantly bombarded with. And the ironic thing is, that most of the stars we’re all trying to emulate don’t exactly look like that either. As a former flight attendant who flew the LA to NYC route more times than I care to remember, I had my share of celebrity sightings and I know this to be true. (With the exception of Natalie Portman and Beyonce who are even more beautiful in person—but I digress.)

The last two years I’ve spent a lot of time in cancer wards as several people I love and care about were diagnosed with the disease. And it gave me a whole new perspective on what makes someone beautiful. When people complimented my sister in law on her weight loss, she’d laugh and say it was the cancer diet. And suddenly being healthy grew way more important than being thin. Having a good hair day is always nice, but the courage and strength I saw when my brother in law lost his, was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that in a world that’s all too willing to point out your flaws, I think my friend’s solution is the perfect antidote. So the next time you’re looking in the mirror and hating on something, why not try to turn it around and pick one thing, anything, and remind yourself why it’s perfect.

Which part are you willing to love today?

Alyson Noel is the author of KISS & BLOG- which is in stores now!

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