The Battle of the Hair

Quite often, a girl's favorite feature is her hair. At least in my case, that is my favorite feature! I love my long light brown hair. What I least like about it is how straight it is. That's all it does, is straight. Unless it decides to say "damn you McKenna, I'm gonna be all kinky today and there's nothing you can do about it!" In which case I wage war against my own head.

How does the battle begin? Well, it begins by me pretending defeat by giving a pitying glance at my crazy mane of frizzy locks, followed by the grabbing of my purple brush. After all, purple is the color of royalty and the royals do have amazing hair, so maybe Karma will work in my favor if I use a purple brush...I can dream at least! I first attempt to take the easy route, by simply putting the brush through my thick hair. Sometimes it works and my hair decides to take the high road and surrender easily, on which days I am most happy.

Most of the time, my hair decides to not cooperate, in which case I have to bring out the heavier artillery: the straightener and the glass serum! So I turn up the heat of the battle, quite literally by plugging in my straightener and turning it up as high as it will go. After running it over my hair a few times, it is finally straight and gorgeous. One problem: my hair has a secret weapon, the Benedict Arnold of my scalp, if you will---frizz!!! But I have come prepared to take down Arnold and put him in chains! My glass serum will not be beat. Once applied, my hair is shiny, healthy, and luscious looking once more.

The casualties of the battle lay strewn across the bathroom counter. Dead hairs which my head has shed appear everywhere in the vacinity of this war. It never ceases to amaze me that I haven't gone bald. As I slowly clean up the victims, I reflect over the viscious skirmish I just had with my hair. And I remember a time when I didn't have to fight with these fine locks, they simply obeyed every stroke of the brush. Perhaps, like all human beings, as hair grows older, it slowly grows more and more defiant. Maybe that's why it turns gray. It does it to spite us! It no longer feels like cooperating and knows that once it is gray, people give up trying. So while I have won this battle with my hair, in the end I know I shall lose the war.