The Story of Hair.

Okay, so if you know me at all, you know I have awful hair.
I honestly don't know what I did to deserve the hair I have.
Each indiviual strand of said hair is very thin. But I've got a ton of it. Which means...knots. Tangles. Matting. Dreadlocks. Every time I move my head.
It was getting better. I was starting to be able to finger comb out said knots and tangles, and then brush it out and it didn't take three hours like it did before. I think maybe chopping it all off 2 years might have helped it improve, like it grew back nicer or something. I don't know. But I really wanted long hair. It was getting pretty long, about mid-back length.



Then, somebody suggested the marvelous idea that I should get a perm >glares at self<. A perm? yay! I always wanted curly hair.
So I sat there for two hours with smelly chemicals in my hair and I got my curly hair. It was fine, for the first couple weeks. It came out curly, and then as it dried, it got ripply, and looked very pretty indeed.



Then something happened. I don't know what exactly, but it started getting frizzy. And it wasn't all nice and ripply anymore. I wore it in ponytails and buns half the time simply because it didn't look good. I finally stopped using the gel the lady gave me, whoops, I mean sold me, and that helped...a little. The gel was just hardening it all in and I couldn't pick it or comb it even if I wanted to. Finally, Sunday night, it all came to the climax.
I was combing my hair.
And I realized...practically the whole right side of my head was matted together. It looked fine, from a distance, even close up you couldn't tell, but try and run a comb through it...heh.
That was it. The hair was going. And it was going soon. We already had a haircut appointment with a lady at our church who cuts hair on Tuesday, but the way I felt, I was ready to go Sunday night. :-P On Monday, I spent an hour wincing and yelping in a kitchen chair as Mom tried to comb through it. She was...halfway successful. I finger combed out the rest, and then I jokingly begged her if we could go down to Mansfield (hour away) today instead of tomorrow to get it chopped off.
She said no, but told me I better text the haircut-lady and warn her that she wasn't just trimming, she was cutting.
Tuesday came, and the hair was gone.
This is what it looked like when she was done...



I look something akin to Little Orphan Annie, don't I, with all that pouff? That was just because it got all pouffy from her combing it, and after I got home and brushed it a little and then the next day when I took a shower, it looked a lot better.



I am very happy.