It didn't matter whether it was synthetically straight, human yaki or Indian wavy, I couldn't get enough of being a red-head. I think for awhile I had convinced myself that if I prayed hard enough, I could turn my sandy brown, naturally thin, covered up hair into Riverdance Auburn and I could just live my life happily ever after. But all and all, I didn't really want to go out into society unless I had my bangs, my shoulder length, my blowin' in the wind, apparition of self. I mean, it felt good when I could fit in and hear things like, "I love your hair", or "I wish I could change mine in so many ways", these statements were in such opposition to, "Too bad you don't have good hair...you'd be really pretty then?"The majority of my adult life was in convincing myself that until I let go of the mask, I would never know who I really was. Too scared to run, get snow in my hair, get into to sauna, hell? Sweating was a big, uhh-uhh! From the mid-90's up until 2007, I didn't really know what my natural hair looked like unless it was during the 'in between' period.
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