A Quote by Yandel

I had that hunger to work and keep growing. So I started to cut hair. When I started getting better, I got my own barbershop. I had a lot of clients in my hometown, so I wouldn't stop cutting hair. That's why I think I have such discipline in my job because I've always been very responsible.
I don't dye my hair. It's so fabulous. I had brown hair for so long. I was always getting my roots done. Sometimes I did it myself because I couldn't afford to go to a hair salon. When I turned 60, I decided to see what color I am underneath. I started dyeing my hair a very light blond and then I let it grow out. I cut it very short.
When I was Elvira, it was probably the phase of my hair getting too high. I thought that if really high hair was good, then really higher hair was even better. So I just started having my hair get higher and higher. In some of the pictures, we had to cut off the picture because it was like Marge Simpson. So that was embarrassing. The wig phase.
When I was in school, I got there on the first day and everyone had long, blonde, straight hair, and I had short, dark, curly hair. I immediately felt I didn't fit in and started growing my hair. But I've learned that I'm only happy when I am truly me and feel comfortable and confident in myself.
I remember going through that process of growing my hair out, straightening it, cutting off the relaxed hair. I finally got to a point where I went to the Dominicans because they can straighten it real good. By the end of the day, the part of my hair that had just been pressed straight was already starting to coil back up.
I really started getting my body ready when I was a freshman in high school. I had just been skating so much, and just started getting so annoyed with leg hair and arm hair, because I was falling so much when I was learning. So I would get scabs on my legs, and the hair would get caught in it. It just became a nuisance. And from that point on, I continued to shave my arms and legs and tried to stay sleek.
I was kind of an unhappy kid. I always felt like a cynical New Yorker trapped in a little kid's body. I started to get some pretty bad anxiety disorders around puberty, which totally did not work with growing up a mile away from the beach. I started cutting my own hair.
My hair story has been unique because my mom's a German Jew, so her hair is way different than my hair. She was always learning on my hair growing up, but I would sit there for hours, and she did learn how to braid hair. Early on, it was a lot of tears while my mom was braiding my hair.
I never had good hair growing up - just had the worst nothing hair - and until I started being rough with it, even 'til this day I'm actually pretty rough with it, and ever since I've been like that it's been pretty darn good to me.
I loathe hair salons. People have always told me I am in the wrong business because I can't stand getting my hair cut or having it messed around with. Hairdressers feel as if they've got to be your shrinks. I just want them to do my hair so I can get out of there.
Getting my hair cut is just a very special moment for me. I don't know exactly why, but it's such an intimate, almost religious experience. I'm very careful with who gets to cut my hair.
I do a lot of damage to my hair every day because of my work. I just noticed this huge change. It started getting thinner and it started falling out. I hit 30, and I literally felt like I was balding!
I went through a real punk stage-I had braids, red hair, pink hair, green hair, I cut it into a Mohawk, the lot. Then about five years ago, I dyed it dark and stayed out of the sun to get pale, because I hated looking like everyone else, all blonde hair and tanned skin.
Cutting my hair, I feel like I'm going to another level. Cutting my hair was a step for me. Anybody that has had hair for so long, when you're used to something, it's like reforming your life.
I wanted long hair my whole life. When I was a little kid, my mom would be like, 'We get our hair cut once a month.' So I just always got my hair cut.
I always had short hair, and I hated my short hair. I was always mistaken for a boy, but my mom wouldn't let me change my hair because she was always chasing me around with a hairbrush, and it was always tangled, so she just would cut it off, and she's right: short hair did suit me.
I had looked forward to the day I would cut my hair because I wanted to change my style when I couldn't before. When the day came to actually cut my hair, however, I felt so empty my eyes teared up on their own.
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