I am my hair. There is no me, there is only hair.
Over the years, my mountainous, curvaceous and uncontrollable locks have grown and grown until there is just… only hair. If I die a sudden mysterious death, chances are I will have choked on a strand of my hair in my sleep.
Me at birth. Just playing - it's my cousin in a wig.
My hair is both a blessing and a curse. But mostly a curse. The only real advantage I’ve noticed in my 18 years is the impressive ability for people to identify me a mile away just from seeing the back of my head. I could never be a successful undercover cop.
So this is me over the stages of my life. Or should I say this is my hair during childhood and adolescence.
It looks fairly manageable, right? Wrong. It doesn’t look too bad! Wrong again. It’s so cool!!! Oh so very wrong.
Listen: Are your nipples in fashion? (Post continues after audio.)
So here I am to lay down some facts, for everyone who ever told me how ‘cool’, ‘amazing’, or ‘beautiful’ my hair is. How ‘lucky’ I am.
I love you mum and dad, but these are the reasons I’m not appreciative of the hair I was burdened with.
1. Why can't I be pretty in the mornings?
Okay so I’m very aware looks aren’t everything. But just for once, I’d like to wake up without a birds nest on top of my head. Without a couple extra dreadlocks that have formed through the night. Without hair all over my pillow. I just wanna look like a Disney princess for one morning!
Me on a good morning.
2. The wind and I will never be friends.
The wind and I have had a turbulent relationship over the years, and my main issue with the wind is its inability to let me wear dresses and skirts in the city… but, wind also doesn’t really like my hair. Can’t I just have one nice photo please?
Perhaps you can imagine the photo taking process for me.