I got the name in primary school because my hair was shaggy. And I didn't like it; I thought it was derogatory.
I'll never forget during the 'Descendants' parade at Disneyland when I waved at a girl with bright blue hair and witnessed her dream being realized and the involuntary tears that followed.
We only had white socks in Romania. But when I used to come back from the States, I used to bring back pink and yellow socks with all kind of designs, and hair clips and elastic bands for the ponytail that had colourful designs.
I guess, to tell you the truth, I've never had much of a desire to grow facial hair. I think I've managed to play quarterback just fine without a mustache.
I live in New York City. I'm 5-foot-9 and wear Rockport shoes that make me 5-foot-91/2. They're not lifts - I deny that - but they do set off the airport metal detector. My hair is starting to gray a little. I have a gold tooth in the back.
I love a lot of the '70s singers: Pam Grier from the 'Foxy Brown' movie, Diana Ross, Tina Turner. They've always been able to embrace their hair, and they've never been afraid to take risks and go all out and make it thick and fun and a statement at the same time.
The second stage set in ten or fifteen days after the bombing. Its first symptom was falling hair. Diarrhea and fever, which in some cases went as high as 106, came next.
I always kept a diary - not a diary like, 'Dear Diary, we got up at 5 A.M., and I wore the weird hair again and that white dress! Hi-yeee!' I'd just write.
If Edwards gained 60 pounds and lost all his hair, he'd look like Dick Cheney!
Because of my schedule and dietary requirements, I don't party a lot, but when I can let my hair down, I will; I think that's healthy. I love a weekend in Vegas.
When I was a teenager, I was really into hair; I dyed it different colours and had loads of haircuts. I shaved my head when I was 17 - it was pretty radical!
I liked to dye my hair as a teenager. I dyed it a lot of different colours: blue, red, pink.
I do miss my hair because I used to do so much stuff with it, but I do like different levels of short. I had a super short pixie before, and I loved it.
I do feel blessed to have small ears - I've never felt self-conscious when my hair is swept back. My feet are a different story - I grew up being painfully aware of them because they are so long.
My hair is capable of doing a lot of different things.
I use this brand called Ouidad; they're great. Not Your Mother's is another one. Garnier Fructis. I use a bunch of stuff. Literally, I just throw a huge concoction of stuff in my hair after I get out of the shower, and then I diffuse it.
I've seen plenty of films where the projector broke. The problems that we have in the digital age are exactly the same as we had. Instead of, 'There's a hair in the gate,' it's, 'The computer ate the footage.' There will always be things like that going on. Nothing is perfect.
The beauty standards had nothing to do with me in Mexico. It was such a bizarre, dire time for my hair. I was living in a small town where there was not any semblance of an African community. I'd have to take the bus to Mexico City to find a woman who could braid my hair. That was two and a half hours away.
I take advantage of every thing I can - age, hair, disability - because my cause is just.
Toughening up, performing masculinity, pretending to enjoy things I didn't enjoy all enabled me to dodge the gender policing of the adults around me. But the way I really was - the swished hips, the Double-Dutching, the hair flips - seemed to always prevail and attract Dad's disdain.
