The Girl with the Curl

I now have curly hair. Of course, I've always had curly hair--or wavy, depending on the weather and travel. In particuarly dry climates (El Paso, for example) it goes almost straight on its own. But the authentic self of my hair is a curly self.

I didn't always accept this. There was a point--not a point, years and years actually--where I spent time daily blowing it out to a discreet wave or a tidy sleekness. Well I'm pushing 40 now and I figure it's time to embrace what I really am. I used to think that a sleek, tidy, blown-out 'do would be a better reflection of my inner self. But who am I kidding? I'm someone who will make the bizarre comment the more diplomatic souls would avoid. Whose idea of decorating is more, more, and then top it with a weird knick-knack that makes the Mr. blanche. I'm a gal who can't organize herself out of a Hallmark store.

So I went here and met the lovely Hareg. And Hareg praised my hair, told me how wonderful it is, and then proceeded to give me the best haircut I've had lo these many years. That was in the late summer and I haven't touched a hair dryer since. My hair and I are rolling merrily along in all our twisty, bendy, curly glory.