An Open Letter To My Hair

Dear Hair,

Please: just work with me.

I am trying to help you; I am on your side!
I guess I should start with an apology, or two. I’m sorry I burn you, cut you and tie you up. I’m sorry I color you, curl you, straighten you and harass you in countless other ways. If it’s any consolation I do it out of love.
Now I believe you owe me an apology. For the small random wisps near my bangs, my bangs that won’t grow out, and for the fact that I get roots even though my hair is still at this awkward not-long-but-not-short mom length. Also, for being frizzy and dry no matter how much Moroccan Oil I use. And for how you look in the rain: people confuse me with a wet dog, and it’s all your fault.

Hair, can’t we work this out? I’ve shown you photos of Blake Lively so many times, I just don’t get what you’re not understanding? Just do what her hair is doing. It doesn’t look that hard!
I hope we can work past this as we grow old together, and make one another happy. Well, mostly make me happy; because I’m the one with hands that hold scissors.
Warmest regards,

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