'The better my hair looks the better I function'
I stared my tumblr. True that...almost too true. My hair has always been a very defining characteristic. Bright red and impossibly curly, it always makes me stand out in a crowd.
I sometimes felt like I was different person every new hairstyle. I know, it sounds ridiculous. My friend had this theory that it was because it was so close to my brain. It never applied to her though. She has one personality: About~To~Bubble~Over. At least, that's what I always called it. She's always on the brink of a massive happiness overload.
When I was a kid, hairstyles didn't matter that much. My mom usually tied it up in two ponytails and forced me into various polka-dot dresses. I was cheerful, happy and permanently smiling.
Once I got into 4th grade, my mom got a divorce and my dad won custody of me. He loved me, sure, I was his adorable little girl. He just never seemed quite sure what to do with me.
After that I kind of just let my hair tumble around my shoulders until the school rulebook was brought out. Jessica, a girl I had never known too well, tied my hair up in a single high ponytail. It was the first time I'd tied it that way.
The ponytail somehow limited me a little. I was quieter, but somehow...smarter. More analytical.
Then both puberty and high school hit. Suddenly, I cared. I cared about music and boys and fashion. And how to do my hair.
And having no convenient mother or incredibly skilled best friend, I googled it. And of course found one million youtube videos full of conflicting ideals.
The Braided Headband look.
The French Braid.
The Inverted Ponytail.
The Fishtail Braid.
This is the story of my high school experience that was pretty much based purely on how I did my hair.
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