I went to high school with a girl who had the perfect hair. It was long and straight and brown and shiny and everything my mass of frizzy hair was not. I sat behind her in French class and would day dream about what it would be like to have hair that could be easily thrown under a baseball cap, or brushed in three seconds. It looked great in a braid or a pony tail or just cascading down her back. It was perfect. In my next life, I wanted straight brown hair just like hers.
But, I didn’t have to wait that long. Lily was born with dark brown hair that has grown into the most enviable head of hair I’ve seen on a kid. It’s super thick and shiny, and manages to look beautiful and tangle free barely being brushed.
But, last night she proclaimed: Straight hair is boring. I hate it. Will you put my hair in braids and I’ll take them out when I wake up?
You want curly hair, I asked, hopefully? It would be so poetic if she longed for hair like mine after I’d lusted after hair like hers my whole life. Is that how it works? We girls will never be happy with the card we’re dealt. Oh, the irony.
Nooooo! Not like yours, she gasped. Like mine, just a little wavy. You know, pretty.
So that’s how it works.