A Tragedy and Comedy in Three Parts

Part I
Every woman's tale of their hair is a long one. Mine, like most women's, is a tragic tale with few moments of glory and a lot of parts with comedy--unfortunately for me, it's not people laughing with me. It starts out with very little as you can see.

Me- 1 yr. oldMe- 2 yrs. oldMe- Kindergarten Kindergarten again (yes, I went twice due to moving to the U.S.A.)

My father once wrote for a high school assignment I had to do, that my greatest accomplishment in life was growing hair when I was five. I think he was wrong. I think it took till I was seven.

7 yrs old

By grade three my poor mother resorted to perming my hair, probably to make it look like I had more. It wasn't too bad then. I liked it actually.

My lovely perm.See not so bad.This I actually consider a highlight. I looked stellar. It's my mom's dress from when she was 15, she wore it on dates with my dad. I fit in it when I was eleven.

Part II

The horrid teenage gawky years struck hard with an early disaster. The summer I was twelve I went swimming all the time and between sun, chlorine, and another perm, my hair fried. Literally, split ends up to my roots. My mother, in desperation, actually took me--for the first time--to a hair salon where my hair was completely chopped and I was given expensive shampoo and conditioner and a weekly revitalizing conditioner treatment-the heavy duty kind. I am the only child out of nine to ever get such treatment. Basically, I refuse to post pictures of those years, I wouldn't want to make you weep for me, or laugh hysterically either.

9th grade--Okay, since this makes Kayli look rather gawky too, I'll post this for just a taste of the awfulness. It's not nearly my worst photo. Oh, and as a side note to this tragic tale, I was always jealous of Kayli's long, gorgeous red hair and how old ladies in stores always stopped and commented on how pretty it was. I wanted to chop it off at night while she was sleeping.

Getting better- 10th grade.

Highlight! Junior Prom, probably the best my hair ever looked besides at my wedding.

Finally those evil years ended, of course only in time for my Senior year in high school. This was actually one of my favorite hair styles. Unfortunately the tragedy continues because ironically, my husband calls that my poodle do and abhors it. Then came college, it pretty much stayed similar to what it had been before. Part III.

Then I met Leo. He thinks long hair is sexy. Why do men always think long hair is sexy?!?!?! I am not some latina beauty with long, thick, black, gorgeous hair. But I began to grow out my hair anyway.

Picture I took for Leo while engaged, trying to look like a mamacita for him. :)

Okay, so I cheated at my wedding. I bought a clip-on because I always wanted an up-do for my wedding. You can't tell, except it's a massive amount of hair.

Getting longer.

It did get past my shoulders but I never got used to it around my face, I grew up with short hair. It was not an easy adjustment, so my hair became permanently in a ponytail.

The permanent ponytail.

After a time, I became tired of my ponytail and hair straight back against my head. I permed it with a loose perm to try to break Leo in easily. I eventually had to get it cut again as the perm grew out, and little by little, over the course of a year, my hair instead of growing longer, grew shorter till once again tragedy struck. The week before family pictures with the Leo's family, I wanted more of an actual style and chose a rather thrifty place. The cut was horrid. I took scissors, and yes, just before pictures that are forever on my mother-in-law's wall, cut my own hair to try to fix it. In absolute terror of what I had done and how awful it looked, I then chose an expensive spa salon and payed big bucks the afternoon of the pictures to get my hair done. I ended up looking like Hilliary Clinton. You can imagine my horror twice over! I did not leave a tip. I tried to salvage it and you can see the results in the photo under "Nuestra Familia". (Oh my favorite comment about that, Leo's aunt asked me, "Wasn't Leo sad when you cut your hair, I know he likes long hair." "Yes," I admitted. Leo's aunt-"Your hair looked so pretty when it was long,"--well thank you, thank you very much.) After much pleading and begging from my husband, I promised never to cut it that short again. That was this spring. This summer, in disgust of my hair once again (well, I had never gotten over that cut), I dyed it and permed it. I liked it. However, once again, my hair was fried. So a few weeks ago I had it cut again. As short as this spring. This time Leo said nothing. Although once pressed, he pouted that I had promised not to cut it. Poor Leo. He does admit now that I do look better with shorter rather than longer hair. Moral of the story: Hair is such a pain. I wish I had a wig.

My new hair cut.

I would love my hair to look like this. Leo, again, thinks I'm nuts, but it's longer so he doesn't say much in way of opposition.

And finally, my sister Andrea. Sometimes I wish I had the guts to do this hair style. Leo would die though.