Bad Hair Day? You’ve Come to the Right Place

By Arden Edelcup  — The “Beauty Babe”

 Quote of the Day: 

“Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it.”   – Confucius

Although I sell hair care products for a living, I humbly admit that I was born with what my close friend says is “Good Hair”. Maybe because I take it for granted, or maybe because I was consumed with my perpetually zitty skin, but I never really understood the whole bad hair day grumble of my peers. While I can crumble over a pulsating pimple, bad hair days happily never ruined any darn day of my life. While I nodded in mock sympathy over distressed high school friends who would walk around in a funk if their Farrah-feathered hair tended to be flying on its own, inside all I thought was, “Who cares — it’s ONLY hair.”

Admittedly, even as customers and I analyze in dizzying detail every one of their painful hair ailments from frizzy, flat, fluffy, and fried — the girl born with ‘Good Hair’ quite simply doesn’t really get it.

While I prided myself as being the ‘Hair Whisperer” to those in the throes of a horrible hair day, and was quite impressive in my voluminous knowledge of everything hair, I now realize I was a bit of a fraud.

Of course, I was an ingredient-savant able to impress with my ability to explain the subtle differences between Moroccan oil from Israel to the subtle differences in nano-titanium flat iron plates, but I didn’t really understand the psychic pain a woman feels when her bad hair just inexplicably bums her out.

Well, that was before … before the dreaded “2009 Academy Awards” ceremony.

The Girl With Good Hair happens to be 48 years old, and not so evolved when it comes to aging. I watched mesmerized at Sandra Bullock as she sashayed onto stage. I became so entranced by her long heavy bangs and ponytail. While she was my age exactly, she looked 10 years younger than me. Before the next award was announced I leaped up in a fog of excitement and grabbed a pair of dull kitchen scissors and carefully cut myself some nifty “Sandy B” bangs.

To my horror with a pile of hair laying sadly on the counter, I realized in my overzealous excitement that I had just BUTCHERED my bangs.

My husband gasped and then smirked and then to my narcissistic horror, gleefully called out: “Hey Moe!” and added insult to injury by making the infantile Three Stooges hand gesture. But he was right. Sadly, I did look like Moe. I froze in terror. I pulled and sprayed and flat ironed and spritzed water and yanked my little hair follicles until it hurt — but to no avail. The next few weeks were a blur of awkward pre-emptive little attempts to tell people about my scissor mishaps.

I also spent hundreds of dollars on decorative headbands and clips in my goofy attempt to make my “Moe bangs” look chic. While those little beauty tips work in Vogue magazine, it failed miserably on my middle-aged face.

While that was a few years ago, I still remember the absolute loss of confidence I felt because of the “Sandy B Bang Disaster of 2009”. What shook me most was that I not only lost my confidence in my looks, but also in every aspect of my life. I now feared bumping into neighbors at the grocery store because I would feel compelled to launch into my pre-emptive bang-cutting fiasco story before their confused stares became unbearable. I slowly felt my confidence as a hair professional drain out during those tortured weeks. At work, I couldn’t recommend a curling iron or conditioner, feeling like my clients were secretly questioning the hair care wisdom of a woman with the haircut of a three-year-old child.

While that was a few years ago, my hair cockiness has never returned. I learned the painfully hard way, about what “Bad Hair Day” means. Only my bad hair day stretched into a few months. While those wispy little bangs eventually grew out to cover not only my forehead wrinkles but also enough for the family Moe jokes to end, I too have grown and emerged on the other side a more humble servant to my fellow hair-challenged customers and friends. I have a bit more compassion for the girl who bought a box of hair color and to her horror created a shade of shocking cotton candy pink.

I am a card-carrying member of the Bad Hair Team now, and I will never again, offer my quiet contempt for those who find swimming pools and humidity their mortal enemies.

Instead, I will put my arm around them in solidarity, and patiently listen with a sympathetic nod. Of course, I will then share my story of my Moe Bangs, and we will all have a chuckle over our memories of never forgotten bad hair days.

Lisa Barr, Editor of GIRLilla Warfare: Arden Edelcup is a Mom of three “Indiana Hoosiers” and owner, with her hubby Earl Edelcup, of Ross’s in Highland Park, Illinois. 

PS. Feel free to share a Bad Hair Day experience with GIRLilla Warfare  in the Comments Section —  it will definitely make for fun reading … 

< back

Would you like to comment?

Leave a Reply