Hair at Interlochen

This is how my hair SHOULD look.
 I'm still getting used to the fact that it is SO short.

Cue the song "You're so vain...."

Yep, here at Interlochen, I am.  In fact, my hairdresser and I have spent the last several summers trying to figure out exactly how my hair can be victorious up here in the "land of the stately pine".

My hair is completely white now.  And along with the whiteness, it is the same wiriness of old ladies.  In fact, I understand now why old women have short hair.   There's just nothing to do with the whole frizzy mess.

I love my hairdresser, Jess.  She is undeniably the best hairdresser of my life.  If there was any reason to stay in Pennsylvania, it would be her.

She knows the pain I feel each summer as I battle the humidity...and lose.  We have tried all kinds of different ways of making my hair look good when it just wants to look bad.  Last summer was the first summer I was fairly successful.  She cut bangs in my hair, so that I could pull the rest of it back, straighten the bangs, and spray the bangs hard as a rock.  It honestly worked pretty well.

Except I don't like bangs in my real life.

The day before we left for Interlochen, I had my standard three HOUR appointment with her--yep, that's how long it takes to cover my white hair--and I told her to cut it all off.  Take off all the hair so that I don't have to worry about it.

Thank goodness she knows me well, and convinced me otherwise.  She did end up taking three inches off to satisfy my desperation, but she reminded me how much I like my hair long.

I have pretty much given up the fight this summer, and it was only because I took a look around.

I can see that every other woman up here has given up also.  There is just a crazy, sweaty frizziness to every woman's hair here.  That great lake air that does wonders for our skin (I don't even wear moisturizer here) wreaks havoc with our follicles.  I can leave for work in the morning at 6:30 with beautifully straight, soft hair.  After a seven minute bike ride to work (this is a leisurely bike ride, mind you), I arrive with the bottom of my hair morphing into the ringlets that I straighten first thing in the morning.  Two hours later, it looks like my hair has been run through the dryer on the "fluff" cycle.  Out of desperation, I have tried to work with it, thinking that it will cut me a break if I do.  I wash it at night, sleep on it wet, and just walk out the door in the morning.

Needless to say, I have collected a number of pictures of hair over the past few weeks.  I take these to send to my family for their daily laugh quota.

First day of work.  I washed it with straightening shampoo, slimed it with Moroccan Oil, and straightened it, but after a DRIVE to work, you can see it already starting to frizz.

Two hours later, this is what it had become.  Welcome to Michigan!

And this, out of the ponytail.

The worst picture from the summer so far.

This also after sleeping on it.  I did wake up and spray the front.

I gave up and drove.

This was at the end of a super long day.  Hannah told me to pull half of it back.  This is called desperation.

No joke, I live for my days off so that I feel normal again.  No uniform, no frizzy hair.

I know....I'm SO vain.