Curly Hair, Do Care

The Lion King was (and still is) my fave Disney.

Probably because unlike my my actual blood-relative Mich, who is pictured above,

they appeared to be my kinfolk.

and today's mane.

Out of control.

Pinky-promise I actually have ears.

There is this great site Curly Hair Problems 

that I occasionally meander over to

when I'm feeling particularly frustrated 

by the fact that this beast cannot be tamed.

Or that I have been growing my hair out for three years

and there appears to be no change.

Or my hair has been intentionally pulled 

by fully grown adults

twelve too many times this week.

I can hear your snorty eye-rolls.

Big life problems over here.

Sorry straight-haried people and spam-bots.

Just be careful that when you wish for "volume"

that you also wish to not look like you belong to a family of big cats.

Ain't nobody got time fuh dat.

Here are a few gems because I provide you with only the most interesting tidbits.

I avoided getting even so much as my hair trimmed

for over a year and a half

because I knew it would take at least three years 

to recover from the butcher job.

 I usually only get compliments on my hair

when it looks like I've stuck my finger in a socket.

Never ever when I think I have somewhat tamed the beast, so:

 I have officially given up and just let it air dry.

because it does what it wants.

Okay, maybe this is just me.

Whatever.

This happened to me.

At the ripe age of eight.

I was standing next to my mom, who also has curly hair.

And the inquiring smarty was someone who had known me 

for a minimum of six years.

I'm still confused.

If I had one copper Lincoln 

for every time someone has pulled on my hair

to watch it spring back into place,

I would be able to afford a whole cup of coffee.

All the whatevers in the land,

Cheryl