I used to hate my curly hair. I wanted the silky, perfect straight hair that I saw in magazines. I wanted to be able to put my hair in a smooth high ponytail. I didn’t want frizz. I wanted sleek. I wanted the hair that everyone else had.
As a child, I never noticed my curly hair much. It was just hair, the stuff that kept my head warm. My mom (a curly head herself) would rangle it back into clips and hair bands, and I would whine and complain about it the whole time until she was done.
It wasn’t until I got to middle school that I started noticing that the popular girls had straight hair, and I, well, didn’t. I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to pick on me. I wanted straight hair more then anything.
When I got to eighth grade, a group of girls started bullying me. They called me frizz head. They tortured me because of my hair. Looking back, I don’t know why my teachers never stepped in when they saw me crying in gym class. I didn’t tell anyone, not even my friends. I wasn’t confident enough to fight back, so I just retreated farther within myself.
I started asking my mom to buy me hair gel. I would put my hair in a ponytail each and everyday, and slick it back with the gel. My curls were gone. I had replaced them with a frizzless ponytail of hair gel. It didn’t stop the girls from making fun of me, and they just moved on to new names to call me, but that ponytail had become my security blanket.
I ended up going to a different high school from my tormentors, but I still stuck with my ponytail everyday for my entire freshman year of high school. My parents told me how beautiful my curly hair was, but I wasn’t ready to give up my security blanket.
Then sophomore year, I traded my hair gel for a hair straightener. I straightened my hair everyday for the whole year. People told me how beautiful my hair was when it was straight, and I started thinking straight hair was the only way I could be beautiful. I was embarrassed of my curly hair, and I was still afraid people would make fun of me like the girls in my middle school had.
It took me until my junior year of high school, almost three and a half years later, before I was ready to face my fear and wear my hair curly again. Eventually, slowly, I began to love my curly hair for what it is. It’s different, and it makes me, me. (I’m not quite sure why why it was decided I should be documented with my paper cutter in the picture below…)
I still wake up some days, and my hair is a challenge. It doesn’t want to lay right. It’s too frizzy, too flat, to curly on one side. It’s a pain, and I love it all the same.
My straight-haired older sisters always tell me how they wish for curly hair. My curly-haired friends tell me how much they wish for straight hair. I have to wonder, why do we find it so hard to appreciate what we are born with?
I spent so long hating my curly hair, and now I look back and think how beautiful my hair looked, so why did I waste so much effort trying to change something that is a part of me?
I talk a lot about makeup and beauty on this blog, but I also want to remind everyone reading that just because makeup is so much fun to use, makeup and beauty products shouldn’t be something that we use because we think we need them to be beautiful.
There is beauty in all of us, curly haired, straight haired, or whatever. Don’t ever let a beauty ad or another person convince you otherwise. You are beautiful just as you are. You are all strong and wonderful. Don’t waste your life away wishing for something that can never be because the chances are that it won’t be until you look back that you realize how beautiful you truly were.
Do you ever wish you had the opposite hair from what you actually have? Do you straighten or curl your hair on a regular basis? Do you like your hair?