• Whenever I was obviously a child, my hair was a nuisance. It tangled easily and so i hated it when my mother got me to sit still for the purpose sounded like hours so she could comb it all out. The comb would catch a knot and pull at my scalp, bringing tears to my eyes and howls of protests. Worse, strangers we met for the street needed to run their fingers through my hair. I still detest my kindergarten teacher because she would comb my curls with her fingers every day once i arrived for class. I became good at hiding behind other children once we entered the door, in an attempt to elude her keen eyes.

    To be a teenager, my curly hair was the bane of my existence. I desperately wanted silky long straight hair like my friends. They wore shoulder-length bobs that did actually float in the wind, silky strands of (mostly) blond beauty which i coveted with all my being. Or they pulled their hair back in smooth pony tails that bounced gracefully with every step they took.


    My hair was actually a mess of thick ringlets, each coil doing just what it needed to do - bouncing off in the direction i always had no power over. At some time, I grew a pony tail, pulling it back as straight when i could, holding my breath and clenching my teeth against the pain once i pulled the strands back as hard once i could. I wanted bangs like my friends thus i would smooth globs of hair product on my bangs, tape them down across my forehead and paste them set up together with the hair drier. After I removed the tape, the bangs stayed where these folks were, thick strands of dark brown spaghetti plastered across my forehead.

    But alas! In the hour the first hairs would commence to escape the ponytail, falling in curly whorls across my cheeks. By mid-morning, more curls would join them, some deciding to head up, down or across. In regards to the time I sat down for lunch, the glue on my small bangs gives way plus they would bounce upwards to participate the rest of my curly mop. After I finally shut down the ponytail and went straight back to curly bob, my pals sighed in relief and told me just how much better I looked.

    Being a young adult, I not just arrived at terms with my curly hair but learned to enjoy it to the easy care it provided me. I kept it short and called it "wash and wear" hair. I even begun to experience the compliments I would get off their women on my own easy care hair. Then I delivered a daughter who has been born with red curls. As soon as the nurse brought her in my opinion, she had tied a blue ribbon around some of the top curls and she was, without doubt, the most wonderful child in the nursery. I forgot about my early fight with my curls and was unprepared when she reached her teens and began exactly the same odyssey i had endured.

    As i am, she fought her curls and worked even harder than I had at attempting to tame her hair and force it into the long straight forms of her classmates. And just like me, she was really a young adult before she realized how beautiful her strawberry blonde ringlets were and begun to enable the curls to cascade to her shoulders naturally that, to this particular day, elicits words of admiration from friends, family and strangers.

    And now she has a daughter, our granddaughter, who turned eight a couple weeks ago. And yes, she has curly hair and yes, she hates it. However, our granddaughter ("S") is an element African-American so her curls are tighter than her mother's and her grandmother's and her hair includes a different texture. It tangles simply and is also tricky to comb out. And, you guessed it, she desperately wants long, smooth shoulder- length hair!

    My daughter has taken "S" for the beauty shop more than once in an attempt to get her hair combed out nevertheless the experience has wound up with "S" in tears and her hair still in tangles. Finally my daughter brought her into a beauty shop that are experts in styling African-American women's hair as well as for her birthday, she had an appointment with the shop. And So I was invited along.

    First, the stylist had to obtain the knots out. This became a good, arduous process that involved choos