My hair tortured me for decades. High Florida humidity + not quite curly hair = disaster. On a regular basis.
I can’t tell you the hours I spent wishing I had been born with different hair.
Middle school was a horrific combination of pubescent awkwardness with a brushed-out perm. Granted, it was the 80s but I don’t think French poodle was the look I was after. I’ve sworn off perms since.
High school managed to offer a slight improvement. No more perms and a hair dryer managed to tame the wild beast a bit. Until I walked outside and met the blanket of wet air resting on my state 90% of the year.
If you want to know what my adolescent hair has to do with Motherhood, join me as I share my heart at Moms Magazine today.