fragments

Growing up, I was convinced that my hair was hopeless. It would always be mousy, it would always be frizzy, the cut would always not quite be what I wanted, the ends would always be split, it would always be an awkward wavy, it would never be soft or smooth or shiny.

I was jealous of just about everyone else, they had such nice hair, such shiny hair, such smooth hair, such nice movement and nice cuts and mine was just impossible.

I’ve realized that the last month has been a drastic change. I’ve finally learned enough about hair to understand why it was the way it was, why what I was doing wasn’t helping, and I changed my routine entirely. Different hair care, different styling, and a new, professional-grade flat iron.

And as I straightened it tonight with that new iron, I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face and the wonder out of my eyes.

I get compliments on the color, it’s smooth and straight the way I’ve always wanted it, the ends are in good shape, the layers (which, by the way, an apparently miseducated stylist told me I could not have with my hair type as a teenager) look great, it’s soft and shiny and has awesome movement and it isn’t weighed down or greasy from the products I use.

I’m finally happy with my hair, and that makes quite the difference in my self-confidence.