I actually have wild hair.

Once I was actually a child, my hair had been a nuisance. It tangled easily and so i hated it when my mother made me sit still for the purpose appeared like hours so she could comb it out. The comb would catch a knot and pull at my scalp, bringing tears to my eyes and howls of protests. A whole lot worse, strangers we met about the street wished to run their fingers through my hair. I still detest my kindergarten teacher because she would comb my curls together with her fingers each morning whenever i arrived for class. I became excellent at hiding behind other children once we entered the doorway, to try to elude her keen eyes.

As being a teenager, my wild hair was the bane of my existence. I desperately wanted silky long straight hair like my girlfriends. They wore shoulder-length bobs that appeared to float in the wind, silky strands of (mostly) blond beauty i coveted with all my being. Or they pulled their hair way back in smooth pony tails that bounced gracefully with every step they took.


My hair had been a mess of thick ringlets, each coil doing just what it planned to do - bouncing off in a direction i had no power over. At some time, I grew a pony tail, pulling it back as straight while i could, holding my breath and clenching my teeth with the pain when i pulled the strands back as hard because i could. I needed bangs like my pals then i would smooth globs of hair product on my own bangs, tape them down across my forehead and paste them in position along with the hair drier. Whenever I removed the tape, the bangs stayed where these people were, thick strands of dark brown spaghetti plastered across my forehead.

But alas! In the hour the primary hairs would begin to escape the ponytail, falling in curly whorls across my cheeks. By mid-morning, more curls would join them, some opting to head up, down or across. Regarding the time I sat down for lunch, the glue in my bangs gives way and so they would bounce upwards to participate in the rest of my curly mop. Once I finally stop the ponytail and went back to curly bob, my buddies sighed in relief and informed me simply how much better I looked.

Like a young adult, I not simply got to terms with my curly hair but learned to experience it for any easy care it provided me. I kept it short and called it "wash and wear" hair. I even started to benefit from the compliments I would get using their company women in my easy care hair. I delivered a daughter who had been born with red curls. As soon as the nurse brought her for me, she had tied a blue ribbon around a few of the top curls and she was, without any doubt, the most amazing child within the nursery. I forgot about my early fight with my curls and was unprepared when she reached her teens and began a similar odyssey that I had endured.

As i am, she fought her curls and worked even harder than I had at seeking to tame her hair and force it into the long straight varieties of her classmates. And as i am, she was really a young adult before she realized how beautiful her strawberry blonde ringlets were and begun to let the curls to cascade to her shoulders in a natural way that, to the day, elicits words of admiration from friends, family and strangers.

And now she has a daughter, our granddaughter, who turned eight last week. And yes, she has wavy hair you will find, she hates it. However, our granddaughter ("S") is part African-American so her curls are tighter than her mother's and her grandmother's and her hair has a different texture. It tangles quickly which is challenging to comb out. And, you guessed it, she desperately wants long, smooth shoulder- length hair!

My daughter has brought "S" to the beauty shop more than once to try to get her hair combed out however the experience has ended up with "S" in tears and her hair still in tangles. Finally my daughter brought her to some beauty shop who specializes in styling African-American women's hair and also for her birthday, she had a scheduled visit with the shop. So I was invited along.

First, the stylist had to have the knots out. This became a good, arduous process that involved going for a small clump of h
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