There was nothing that terrified me more than curly hair. Hair so curly that everytime you brush it straight, it gleefully curls back to its original messy state in mere seconds ; hair so curly that it becomes every amateur hairdresser’s worst nightmare. Hair with such a volume that it makes the frisking lady at the airport suspicious of you hiding something in it. Hair that makes you realise that even Ramen Noodles look prettier. Hair that leads to you getting weird looks from the cashier because you buy one bottle of shampoo and four bottles of conditioner. Hair tht controls you more than you control it. Hair, a thorough examination of which, could greatly help the Navy in honing their knowledge of knots.
Living with it every second of the day was like living with my own personal demon. How I hated it! And yet, nobody allowed me to get rid of it. “It defines you darling,” Mom always said. “It is as untamed and wild as you are.”
My sister had been blessed with straight black hair so I never expected her to understand my pain. There was no hair- normalizing mechanism I hadn’t tried. I prayed relentlessly to get rid of the bushy nuisance decorating my head.
Hair so curly, that every time you brush it straight, it gleefully curls back to its original messy state in mere seconds ; hair so curly that it becomes every amateur hairdresser’s worst nightmare.
My hair, curly and wise.