A Bad Weekend for My Hair

My hair is curly. Really curly. I've met with my share of teasing and comments about my hair over the years. When I was on my mission, a visiting general authority informed me that my hair was not as conservative as a missionary's hair should be. My brothers used to call me frizz-head.

I used to fight my hair but then I reached a point where I just decided to go with it. Good hair products have made a big difference and now I've come to terms with my hair and wouldn't want to deal with the hassle of straightening it. Most of the time I like it fine.

This weekend was a rough two days though. On Saturday, a relative that I love, of the older generation (he's in his 70s) asked me if I'm fixing my hair differently. I said no, it's pretty much as it's always been except that I have some good product I like. He said he liked my hair better now. It looked good. It would have been fine if he'd left it there, but he continued. "I haven't always liked your hair. There have been times it looked like the fuzzy curls were choking off your face."

Yikes! Okay. A little rough but at least he likes it better now, right?

Then today at church, a 3-year-old boy was sitting with our family because his dad is in the military and his mom was playing organ. His mom has sleek, dark hair. He pointed at my hair and said, "That looks funny. It looks like you have dogs on your head."

So there you have it. My hair has been insulted by both old and young.

Aren't you jealous?