The Tale of the Curly Hair

 Once upon a time, there was a lucky mom who birthed the most beautiful baby girl ever. This little girl had a full head of the cutest, softest hair swirled up into a natural mohawk. She was born cool.

 

 That lucky mom, enjoyed playing with the little girl's hair and the little girl's hair grew and grew. Over the months, the texture of the girl's hair began to change and become even more beautiful until, alas, a gorgeous teeny fro was upon her head.

You may have seen her.

 The mother tried to persuade the little one to try straight hair, but the little one always answered "No thanks. I like my hair cuh-lly." When her mom asked her how she wanted it styled, she assuredly answered, "I want it loose."

Then, one day, the little girl's grandmother, with long, thick, shiny, silky straight hair watched her for the evening. When the mother returned home and bathed the little girl, she said, "I want my hair straight like Abuelita's!"

Shocked and excited, her vulnerable mother (who had at this point bypassed all reason), whisked the little girl away to her bathroom before she changed her mind. There, with only a few drops of silk hair serum, she began to flat iron the curls.

Oh, how pretty the little girl was with straight hair! The mom was relieved to have a few days off from un-hip people asking her why she didn't comb the girl's hair.

When Daddy got home that night, he wasn't happy. He missed the little girl's natural curls, but upon much pleading, agreed to roll with it.

After a few days, Daddy had had it. See, Daddy is the one who gets her ready for church on Sunday mornings because Mommy goes in early to sing. Daddy wasn't down with flat ironing the hair himself.

Admittedly, Mom had had enough too. It was very high-maintenance. With both parents on the same page, mom went to wash her hair.

This is where our happy story turns into a tragedy… The hair would NOT curl again. As the water saturated it, it simply rested limp and wet over the little girl's back.

Three weeks of natural remedy trials later, and the hair is still limp. NO CURLS.

This weekend, the mother learned her fate. The hair was fried. Fried like Kentucky Fried Chicken. All she can do (unless you know another option, which momma would LOVE to hear) is trim it and wait for it to grow out.

Let this be a lesson to all that experimenting with beauty and fashion has its price. One day, I'm sure we'll all look back on this and laugh. Today, while searching for photos for this post, I could've cried.

In other news, I'm now looking for a hair model, while mine recovers. I've got lots of cute ponytails, clips, and headbands in the works. Email me if you're in the Gainesville, FL area or if you are a photog anywhere in the country.

Thanks for reading,

Debra