March 7, 2013. Nuevo Vallarta. Mexico. Hair.

My hair is easy to manage.   In the course of my life,  hair has not caused me grief.  Nor has it taken me much time.    When I see the effort and expense that others spend looking after their hair and compare mine, I realize that I am a very lucky lady, at least with my hair.   Of course, my hair never looks extraordinarily beautiful or extraordinarily awful.   No one ever looks at my hair and neither do I.  Once I shower and dress, I brush my hair and get on with my day.  I never look at my hair  again.

My Mother would not allow us to pay attention to how we looked from the outside.   When my sister, who had beautiful curls, was caught primping in front of the mirror, my Mother cut off all her curls. My sister was 6.  I know about it because my Mother always felt guilty, because my sister's curls never grew back.  Carol's hair was wavy, but it never curled.    My hair was always kept short, when I was old enough to look after it myself.   My sister brushed my hair for me so you can see that I was indulged.   I am very fortunate that my hair is easy to manage because I would have no clue about doing anything except washing and brushing my hair.  I was born with easy hair and I am grateful.