The Weekly Mindfuck: Hair Ties

(Image via 21Naturals.com)

Much of my life has been dictated by hair ties. I have thick, curly hair that I find overwhelming, quite frankly. It's long but somehow remains buoyant and wild enough to move at its own will, forever in my eyes and my mouth and my nose when I'm doing all sorts of things I need my sense for. There are pros, of course: There's plenty of hair to pull on, and god knows I'm not tender headed. I probably won't go bald, save for some strange disease. I'll never have to cut it short for practical reasons, and my ears stay warm even in the dead of winter. 

The biggest con, though, is that during sex, it can be . . . inhibiting. It gets everywhere. Not just my eyes and mouth and nose, but also his (which yes, is rectified during missionary, unless I'm laying on a really fluffy pillow). There's been a rare partner or two who instinctively knew to hold it off my face when I was laying on top and to pull it all the way off my face when I was going down on him, but more often than not, guys merely find it baffling. Funny, even. And what can I say? I guess I'm happy it's distinctive. 

Because I value both my sex life and my oxygen intake, I usually have a hair tie on my wrist. It doesn't come off with my clothes, so it's never far out of reach when things get hot and heavy, and I can quickly pull it all back before things get out of hand. When I first started having sex, I did this somewhat awkwardly, briefly pausing the action to secure The Beast. Since then, I've learned how maneuver, how to flip us over so that right when I get on top, I can arch my back and secure it off my face while hopefully doing nothing but giving him a better view.

It's a move driven from a purely practical standpoint, but because I only wear my hair up when I'm having sex or working out, it's created an almost Pavlovian response in me. When I put my hair up, it's Go Time. My hair signals a little more focus, a little more aggression, a little less inhibition. I'm a little more connected to my body and the moment. Pulling my hair out of my face puts me in that headspace where there's no anxiety, no insecurity, no truly coherent thoughts beyond almost animalistic stream-of-consciousness observations that usually comes straight out of my mouth. What's that called again? Oh yeah—dirty talk. 

I think many women, myself included, would probably never consider a hair tie to be an accessory that's even remotely sexy. But every once in awhile, I remember that the little things make all the difference. 

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