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Hair

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My best friends and I are different, like flavors of ice cream or colors of nail polish, each enjoyable in different ways. Each one of us has our own hair type, our own personality. Kelsey has naturally gorgeous curls, sometimes hard to tame, always moving from pony to bun to all down, never at rest. Megan’s hair is silky straight, enjoyable play with and run your fingers through, but also stubborn, difficult to convince to hold a curl. Meghan’s hair is agreeable, will do anything she wants it too—curly, straight, crimped, or braided. Rocha’s hair is never-ending, covering her whole back, she ties it in knots to keep it under control. Amishi’s hair is thick and curly, framing her face with wild spirals, and knotting in unexpected places.

My hair is unpredictable. Some days I will wake up and it will be slinky smooth over my shoulders, slipping out after being tucked behind my ears. Some days it will decide to be soft waves, easy to either leave down or pull back into a loose pony tail. Some days it is crazy curly, irritating me throughout the day, falling in my eyes, frizzing out of control. Every day it’s something different, every day a surprise, I never know what to expect. My hair is like my personality, different every day, but never unexciting.





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