Bangs, fringe, breakage — whatever you call it, it'll fit in some butterfly clips.
This story covers a good ‚ I don't know — 13 or so years of my life. Don't worry, I won't make you sit through the worst/awkward bits of it. Just know that this has been a long-standing feud between myself and a very small but particularly irritating part of my hair.
Those dumb little tufts sticking out of my head, mocking me. I first noticed them when I was in gym class. I was 10 or 11, and we were running around the track, and I couldn't stop noticing that the head part of my shadow had Einstein hair.
I don't have that kind of hair, I thought to myself. But look. There it is.
I then promptly forgot about it because there are much more important things on the mind of an 11-year-old, and did literally nothing about it besides generally dislike these little tufts of hair. I mean, I did try to straighten them and blow-dry them straight, but they always poofed back up, and I would just end up tucking them behind my ears.
Until two weeks ago.
It was a particularly bad hair day, as showcased by that flattering #nomakeup selfie above.
I asked fellow xoVainers what to do to solve my persistent cowlick problem that plagued the sides of my head, and I was met with some really helpful suggestions.
Maura said, "I use some sort of gel-wax stuff, which works because it's super-sticky, so whenever these suckers act up again, you can just stick them right back (my head's one big glue stick these days tbh) but my baby hairs are shorter than that, so idk if that's gonna work for you."
And Hannah chimed in with, "I have a really bad cowlick in my bangs, and I find getting it sopping wet and then pulling the hairs in the direction I want (with my fingers really firmly yanking close to the roots) while blasting with a hair dryer seems to be the only thing that moderately works."
Colleen gave this solid advice: "I have this problem super-bad, and the only thing I've found that helps is to never take a picture of myself in a ponytail."
I decided to ignore all the helpful advice, and I just chopped 'em off.
WHAT A DIFFERENCE. Besides cleaning up the baby hairs at my neck that I didn't cut, look at how much saner I look!
Why did it take 13 years for me to do anything about the lil' tufts? Well, I always liked to think that it was holding a candle for my curly baby hair.
Look how cute I was! I know it isn't perfect to see in this picture, but my hair was pretty curly when I was a wee lass, and I've been jealous of baby me's hair ever since my hair straightened itself out.
To cut off my tufts, I took some tiny eyebrow scissors, set myself up with my light-up makeup mirror, and I cut just before the curl started to form on each side.
This wasn't at the same spot on both sides, so on one side of my head I basically cut it less than a centimeter away from the root, and on the other side it's about a half inch long.
After getting the bulk of the hair off, I went in and cut upwards into the cowlick stubs to make sure there wasn't a line from cutting off the hair. It's kind of like when you trim your bangs the way "you're supposed to" and you cut upwards.
I showered and air-dried my hair after this to make sure that it wouldn't be crazy-tiny little ringlets where I cut them, and thank THE LORD there weren't. I did go back in with the scissors and trim little individual hairs that were sticking out on their own so I could finally have the sleek ponytail of my dreams.
My hair is pretty thick, so you don't really notice the missing hair from the above-the-temple-area of my head.
Basically, I feel like I've had an awesome hair day every single day since I cut those stupid cowlicks off two weeks ago. I give it a 10/10 will continue to do forever and ever.
- Do you struggle with cowlicks or tufts like this? How do you deal with them?