My last relaxer was on July 31, so my transition is in its infancy. Because I do nothing half-bootied, I've already experimented with all sorts of styling techniques. Flexirods made my hair look demented, like someone who had escaped from the insane asylum. Bantu knots were uncomfortable, because my hair isn't coarse enough to do without bobby pins, and the results weren't thrilling. Curling irons are more of what I'm trying to avoid.
After much practice and repeat trips to Sally for more packs, I have found my happy place with Curlformers.
|Ooh yeah, mothers, better lock up your sons!|
Curlformers are expensive but, I think, worth the investment for the results. You take a section of your hair when it's wet — the smaller the better, or else you'll end up ripping a chunk of your hair out — hook it near the root with the styling rod — sold separately, por supuesto — and pull it through a curler. The curler snaps back into place. Then, you either walk around like a silly goose all day until it dries, or you sit under a dryer. That's what I prefer, because I endure just a half hour of miserable heat while reading a book, and then pull them off. Boom.
The colors correspond to the direction of the curl. Ignore the orange one, because I just grabbed random ones from the wide-size pack I have for the back. To curl the hair away from your face with the narrow size, you want the green ones on your left and the blue ones on the right.
When they're out, you'll look like a really fancy poodle. This is when I spray half a can of hairspray, and then I rake through with my fingers or a comb to separate the curls and make them really wispy and piecey. Then I use the rest of the can of hairspray. (Not really, but damn near close.)
A coworker stopped at my desk today to exclaim, "What a cute head of curly hair!" I'm madly in love with the results. River Song, eat your heart out.