Bad Hair Life

I've never really had any passionate feelings toward my hair. Maybe because personal grooming isn't high on my list (aside from rudimentary personal grooming, that is. I shower, put on deoderant, etc.). I've never been one to spend hours on my hair. Maybe blow dry it, maybe try to curl it. Curls don't stay in well, so I've learned that it's useless to try. But once or twice a year I'll try to curl it and sigh when my hair is perfectly straight a nanosecond later. I've done the perm thing; I'll have to dig up a photo of me in a perm, circa 1987. Most of my hair displeasure comes from not really liking the color. Over time, it's ended up being a light brown, perhaps dark blond. Some people say I'm a redhead, to my disdain. I have nothing against redheads, I just don't think I have red hair. I haven't dyed my hair in over a year, so right now it is as all natural as I've ever been since the age of 15.

That about sums up my hair displeasure.

Now, on the other hand, my displeasure with Julia's hair is about a mile long. That girl has the most awful hair ever. I pity her. I feel like I hit the hair lotto in comparison to her, and that makes me feel really guilty. Why couldn't she have gotten my hair? Noooooooo, she has to get S's truly awful hair. But it's easier for a boy to have awful hair because one buzz cut can solve all the problems. That is S's solution for his hair - buzz cut.

For a little girl, a buzz cut is not so much of an option. I seriously contemplated it until I realized that a buzz cut would just recreate all of these problems all over again as it grew out. It's probably the best to soldier through until it grows long enough that there's hope that it will weigh itself down.

It really doesn't take much explaining. The pictures speak for themselves. Julia, Daddy loves you despite giving you the worst hair ever.