Hair Stories

1. When I was five years old, I had a lot of hair to say the least. Kinky, curly, crazy, unruly hair and I just couldn't understand it. I wanted to have pretty long blonde hair like my best friend Sarah. She was pretty. Why couldn't I be pretty like that? Why was I the only person in my class without nice straight hair? One day, Sarah came to class and with her hair cut just above her shoulders and I was pissed! She looked even prettier than before! I didn't understand how it was possible for a person to look sooooo perfect and then look even more perfect. So that night I went home, determined that I was going to look like Sarah, even if it killed me. At five, I was not allowed to play with scissors...but technically I wasn't going to be playing with them. I was just going to cut my hair until it looked like Sarah's. Well after a few (large) snips of one side of my hair. My mom busted in my room (because it was too quiet) and yelled at me for cutting my hair. She then sat me down for an hour while I cried and she tried to even up the other side of my hair. Needless to say the next day when I went to school, I most definitely did not look like Sarah.

2. Middle School is a time of exploration. It's a time to push the boundaries because you are no longer a child, but a teenager. And that kind of thing allots you to do all sorts of things. Dying hair for instance. But, I couldn't actually dye my own hair because my mom felt that was something "adults" did. So like any good friend/ accomplice in crime, I lived through a friend of mine. Her parents actually let her do cool stuff. She decided that she wanted the "Sexy Lindsay Lohan Red." So after school we bought a random box of red dye, (because, hey, it's all the same color right?) and with our amazing thirteen year old skills, we transformed her into a firey red head. Unfortunately, Middle School is also a time of teasing and bullying so she went through a week of being called "Period Head" and "Tomato Top" and I was right by her side through it all. It was in that week that I became grateful that my mom was so uncool.

3. I believe the general population of the world has been taught some form of the philosophy "things happen" and at some point you just have to get over it. But when bad things happen I feel like I am the only one that has some kind of magnetic attraction to crappy circumstances. Luckily on this particular day, I realized that it isn't just me. Last summer, I was coming home on the metro after ten hours of working, and all I wanted was some peace and quiet. Unfortunately I was stunned out of my day dream by a girl screaming because her ponytail was caught in the sliding doors. Needless to say it was an incredibly sad, and long eight minute ride to the next stop.