As a small child,
I never liked my hair.
It was brown, short, and had a tendency to knot,
Meaning that my mother would have to attack my head to get the tangles out.

As a middle schooler,
I begged God to give me hair like Selena Gomez.
I wanted smooth, silky, and jet-black hair,
To help me stand out from the crowd.

As a freshman,
I got my first job.
I spent almost all of my money on hair dye, straighteners, and gels,
So that I could be someone else.

As a sophomore,
I cried when my cousin Sammy was diagnosed with leukemia.
Her beautiful red curls fell out one by one,
Until her mother decided to shave her head.

As a junior,
I loved my hair.
It was brown, short, and had a tendency to knot,
Meaning that I was young, healthy, and strong.