Hair to celebrate

Growing up I would have gnawed off and gifted you my right arm if you had straight hair and were willing to exchange it with the curly mallu mop I inherited from my paternal genes - even if only for one day. In fact I recall many of my selfish dear god prayers including the wish of straight as straw swishy black hair. Of course I still have my right arm, you have your hair and I'm waiting on God for other more important things like world peace.

And of course the grass being greener on someone else's head (!) meant that everyone thought my hair was permed, the ringlets framing my head mistaken for an artificial architecture that THEY wanted. I trained myself young, to tame the wildness by tying it back tightly - so much so that my forehead is a tad broader than it need be. Even in adulthood my hair was awkward, and no matter how much V said it looked lovely I just never ever believed him. Terrified of perming it I just stuck to the tied back old aunty look, a bun or ponytail adorning the back of my head at all times. Bottomline - I have never liked my hair. Except on the days I got a haircut and it had been blowdried to perfection. And who are we kidding, that never lasts.

However Colin the Singaporean dude seemed to know what he was doing. The too short poodle look that I came back with from my SIngapore holiday has this morning suddenly grown out into a head of lovely waves. I'm not quite sure how except that I used a leave in conditioner after washing, tied it back while damp and when I finally opened it in the afternoon it looked GLORIOUS. I have felt a bit like a model today swishing my head around, flying in the right direction in the wind as I walk along, daring it to all tangle and go back to its original birds nest state. But no. Till this very minute it is looking lovely and just exactly how I now want it to look. Not straight (which I have learnt would look foolish on me - my genes did know what they were doing!) but gentle curls and waves framing my face just right. I keep going to the mirror to check that this is mine and not a dream. Or a wig.

I'm having a good, GREAT hairday. I never ever thought I'd be able to say that.