All through my growing up years and into my adult ones, I had long straight hair. And the entire time I had long straight hair, I prayed for a miracle to give me curls.
That miracle came. I call her daughter. She has my long, straight blonde hair. She is the spitting image of me as a child. Me? I got my curls.
Curls aren’t beautiful. They are messy, wild, and crazy. They are untamable. They do whatever they want, twisting and turning in every direction. They don’t fall in beautiful ringlets. They don’t bounce like they do on TV. And why is it that the hair at the nape of my neck almost never curls?
But I wanted them. I thought curls were so beautiful. I think I even believed that people with curls just hopped out of bed with beautiful hair. Oh, the naivety of the young. Now, I’ve got these curls. They never cooperate. They never do what I ask of them, no matter how much I may beg and plead.
Be careful what you wish for, it just might happen.