My Untamable Mane

My hair is another animal in itself. When I was a child, my hair was pin straight. Then somewhere along the line, things began to change. Currently, my hair is about shoulder length and does as it pleases. Ironically, it looks its worst right after I take a shower. After a shower, the beast takes its true form and reveals its frizzy, wavy nature. It bends this way and that, never choosing just one path to follow. When I’ve tried to style it to curl a certain way, it does not yield. (Of course, that may be due to my inept hands).

To give an example of its nature, this is a conversation that me and my dad had once.

Dad: You should probably brush your hair.

Me: I did. Twice.

Instead of stressing over what my hair can’t do, I’ve learned to accept it. I treat it well, and limit the amount of treatment it endures. I avoid hair dryers, curling irons, and straighteners like the plague. I don’t color my hair, and leave it to its natural dark tones.

Why tame the beast, when you can let it run free?

In addition to having unruly hair, I also have quite a unique laugh.

Readers, what are your experiences in handling your hair?


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