My hair has always been curly. I was born with curly hair and have enjoyed cursing my curls my entire life.

During the 1980’s “big hair” was the fashion. Hairdressers charged a small fortune, giving women a temporary version of The Look, while I flipped my newly washed hair around a few times and had the same look for the cost of a blob of shampoo and conditioner, a plus for me, as the money I saved on hairdo’s could be put towards the equally as fashionable padded shouldered outfits!

Oh, how I loved to hate my hair! Rain made it curlier, humid weather did the same, straightening was only ever a temporary measure and something I stopped trying to do years ago, around the same time as I stopped painting my long fingernails and wearing fancy dress rings on my fingers. As I recall, the high heels were kicked off also, around the same time as motherhood kicked in.

Age brought with it the wisdom that it was easier to let go of the concept of sleek locks, on my head, anyway.

Advantages to a curly top became apparent. On a windy day, who knew whether I had brushed my hair or not? Curls are simplicity itself on a hot summer’s day, just drag them back and tie them up. Unruly strays, not making it into the hair band were assumed to be delicate curls, placed purposely around my hairline, when in reality they were the runaways!

Comments of “You’re so lucky to have curly hair” have been repeated to me, ad nauseam. Not only do I have curly hair, I have thick, curly hair. Why me?

Last Sunday night we enjoyed a family dinner, my eldest daughters twenty-second birthday. The six of us spend less family time together these days, since my daughter moved out a year ago. A sign of the times, making the nights we are all together more precious than ever.

My two girls asked, for approximately the nine-hundred-and-twenty-first time, could they straighten my hair…they were spending “sisters” time together, trying out new makeup, doing each other’s hair, just like when they were young…how could I refuse?

They fussed and fluttered around, with squeals of “I can’t believe Mum is letting us do this”, interjected throughout the process of “The Straightening”.

The softness of my hair amazed all three of us; my hair being as sleek and smooth as both of my girl’s youthful locks.

Monday morning arrived. Dragging myself into the bathroom, in my usual half-asleep state, I was startled by the sight of a complete stranger in the mirror…where had my curls gone?

I caught my husband, peeking at me sideways, out of the corner of his eyes. “Sorry, but the straight hair just isn’t “you””. No, it wasn’t.

Never have I flung my curls around with such abandon, as when I washed my hair and my curls sprang back to life!

I asked myself, how many times have I preached to my children, “Beauty is only skin deep” and “Looks aren’t everything”? Ah yes, how true….

….But there’s another adage, “Don’t try to be something that you’re not”. Yes, that’s the important one.

Now, I am my curls; my curls are “me”….Did I mention yet how much I simply adore my curls? 😉