I admit I have odd things run through my brain … but today, I was chatting with a lady friend of mine, and the subject of sex hair came up. I had to laugh, almost every woman just knows what this is. But for those that need clarification – It’s the way your hair looks, especially on a woman who has longer hair, after your head has been ah, rolling around or bumping around or basically anything around on the pillow or the bed. Normally resulting in a large lump in the back of your hair, full of a tangles.
Now, in speaking with my lady friend, we both giggled because the term came up, and neither of us needed an explanation as to what this term meant. As she’s been in a relationship for quite some time, she posed the question to me … do I get nervous about what I look like in the morning when I’m with someone new? And I said back to her – Do you mean, sex hair? And we both laughed. So it got me thinking – and I had to share with her a funny story. Because of course, I’m me and well, things of this nature always happen to me. I may not be alone in this one however.
Upon spending my first night with Irishman, I woke that next morning and realized I had nothing with me. No brush, no comb, nothing. To make matters worse, I had worn my hair up the previous night, which consisted of many bobby pins and a small clip that was … conveniently broken the evening before. I had some serious sex hair going on, and he had NOTHING to help me. No brush, no comb, nothing. I remember thinking “This can not be happening” because in addition to having an Irishman, I had smeared sex make up as well as sex hair. Basically I looked terrible. And the worst part? We still had to drive back to my hotel to get my things as I was extending that trip to stay with him for an extra couple of days. So yes, I had to drive like 40 miles with the sex hair and sex make up. And because my hair was up the night before, it was already crazy all over the place, and having the big ass lump in the back didn’t make it any better. But, I could do nothing so I tried not to obsess. I failed over my non-obsessing, by the way.
I gave this example to my friend, saying at some point, men have to accept that we don’t wake up and look fabulous like the ladies do in Sex and The City. I don’t wake with lipstick still perfectly drawn on my lips. I don’t wake with my mascara amazingly in tact and not smeared. I don’t wake with perfect hair. I wake WITH morning breath. My lips are their natural color and probably swollen if we kissed a lot last night. I get whisker burn if a man isn’t shaved and my chin will show it with a nice pink tint. My hair can be crazy, or as I’m blond, can be darker than the night before. My makeup, if I slept in it, is probably smeared all over my eyes and I may have flakes of mascara on my face as well. I do not wake up gorgeous, men of the world, especially any man that may be reading this that I may wake up next to in the near future. <ahem> Where was I? Oh yes, I do not wake up looking gorgeous, especially after a night of sex! I wake up, and look like a normal girl, in my opinion. I’m confused and cranky till I have my coffee. I hate too many questions in the morning. I’m just … Me.
I reminded Irishman today of that first morning, and how mortified I was by my hair and make up. His response? “As I recall, you looked very cute in the morning.”
Oh, NOW he tells me.
Posted by QTMama 
