Hair

I'm sorry that this post has an extremely bland and short title. It's just that my hair is so big and frizzy that it essentially took up the whole title area. Not really of course, but pretty much. I have huge hair. Sometimes I'm even afraid that it may offend people or make them feel uncomfortable. But then I think, "Nah." They should feel honored.

You're still probably thinking, who writes a blog post solely about their own hair? Hmm. Me. It wasn't really anything I've been planning to do, but then yesterday, it hit me. It hit me when I was talking to my brother about something, and his response was, "Are you going to do something to that?" Yes; I soon discovered that the "that" he was referring to was my hair. And I can say without a doubt that it was the best, most uplifting insult I have ever received. Nope; I'm not going to do something to it.

However, that wasn't always the case. Before, when I was supposedly too little to own my own straightener, I used to live for the days when my sister would leave the house or even just leave her room, and then that blessed straightener would be all mine. I would literally dream about it. There was always something intriguing about being able to brush my hair. Without losing the brush. And then one year, I purchased a straightener of my very own, and my hair and I never looked back. It was shiny. It was straight. It was beautiful. And my hair wasn't half bad either.

But the more I straightened my hair, the more I wished that I hadn't straightened my hair. It would just lay flat, like I had put a huge glob of Elmer's glue in between it and my head. But I hadn't. Honest. It was in those moments that I realized I was deathly afraid of flat hair. It gave me nightmares. Not really, that would make me kind of weird.

But it still changed me. I decided to embrace my natural hair, embrace each person's stare, embrace my stylish flare. I liked it because no one looked like me (except on those rare occasions where I did straighten my hair). However, most mornings, I simply didn't have 4 hours to spare. That might be exaggerating; it might not be. You can take your pick. After all, it doesn't matter much anymore. Plus, if 80s hairstyles come around again, I'm way ahead of the trend.

And if you ask me, without my hair, my life would not be nearly as wanderFULL.

P.S. Shout out to my good buddy, humidity.