“Not a hair on my head would think about going to such a special curly hairdresser”

Hanneke can be recognized by her cozy head of curls. But she doesn’t need to know anything about all those complicated care methods and curl hairdressers.

The dietitian complimented me on my curls. Which was nice, since this is exactly my body’s success number over which I have no influence. Walking to the food shop, I still feel that my appearance should be slimmed down, even if that is not our agreed goal at all. Hair is fine. Hair is safe. I can’t do anything about my hair. Or better yet: I don’t do anything. I visit the hairdresser a maximum of three times a year for much-needed highlights and a spot here and there. Three tough hours, because of sitting still, every time. How sweet my regular hairdresser is. We shared divorces and new loves, babies and upcoming dates. Still, I postpone every visit as long as possible. I just prefer to do other things with my time.

Not a hair on my head thinks about going to such a special curly hairdresser. Or apply that hyped curly girl method. On social media I saw curly women buying expensive shampoo, drying their hair with T-shirts, applying even more expensive stuff and ultimately using five products to style a head full of frizz-free hair. Beautiful, but not for me. Thanks to a well-loved travel pack, I have been using the luxurious curl shampoo variant from the drugstore since this summer and I think it is great. I can’t even have the patience to scan all those labels on the shelf and decide something. Because my hair is also damaged by thirty years of bleaching and frizzy because of those curls, should I do something about that? No.

I wash it twice a week, after boxing, sometimes three if it pours often like now, and that’s about it. I prefer to walk out of the hairdressing chair with wet hair and let the wind dry my curls, but because that feels like half work to my hairdresser, I stay seated for the blow-dry. But, as is often the case, this compliment was also followed by an inconvenience filling moment. As a recipient, you think you have to say something after the polite thank you, otherwise there will be silence or you will seem very sure of your point, which will force the compliment giver to repeat the compliment again, or worse, to cancel it. to deepen.

“Thank you,” I smiled, fluffing my curls. And then I made a big mistake. Avoiding discomfort, I told her that I only got curly hair when I was a teenager, and that as a little girl I had such straight hair that I went to sleep with braids and rolled wet locks around pencils to get some work done. “A hormonal gift,” I concluded with satisfaction. And then it came: “As long as they don’t disappear during menopause,” my dietician laughed. An hour later I walked out heavier, fearing only a few good years. I wish I had just kept it a polite thank you.