Let the Messy Bun be Messy
Flashback to this morning: I woke up 25 minutes late, thanking god I had woken up at all. Knowing my time was limited, I threw my hair up into a messy bun and managed the “10-minute Makeup Look” in 5. I had to get to school to work on math, but lets be honest I’m never thinking about math. What was really on my mind was the client that would be in the office today. Even a tiny little high school intern like me has to look their best.
In the early years of being a teenager I would have been absolutely petrified. Looking in the mirror, desperately trying to perfect my messy bun. It was always the same: take it out, put it up again, beat myself up because I should have just stuck with the first one. What the hell is the point of a messy bun if it’s not messy? I don’t know. But that’s what I used to do. Flustered and insecure, I gave my hair the power to control how my day would go.
But today, prepping for my glimpse into the real interior design world, I didn’t. You see, for about the past year or so whenever I feel overwhelmed amidst my morning routine (like almost every day), I look in the mirror and say a little something like: “Your hair is a mess and so are you”, “Sometimes the best thing your hair can be is a mess”, “Embrace the mess”, Etc.
Five years ago I’d slave away at my vanity, straightening my hair almost every day. Despite my friends and family’s comments on their desire for my natural look, I tried so damn hard to change it. You wanna know the truth? No one cares. No one cares about the highlight you haven’t gotten around to or the spot your curler missed this morning. They’re too worried about their OWN hair to give yours any thought.
When the mantras began, I never believed them. I felt pretty stupid some days. I mean it was as if I were the mom who sticks notes in her kids lunch box everyday, except the note was for myself and I was staring in the mirror. But I just kept saying them.
Mornings and mornings passed, saying these words a thousand times over again. It was truly the whole “fake it ‘till you make it” ordeal. One day I just woke up and believed it.
You see, the golden waves are always a reflection of my life. Because they are always a mess. A nice, frizzy, wish I could have lived through the 80’s kind of mess. But so am I.
Despite my overdue highlight and inability to wake up early enough for a smoother style, I have learned to love and embrace what is on my head every morning. What a blessing it is to have hair! And you know what? Today I kept my bun from the first try.
Embrace the mess.