Curly Locks

After attending church last Sunday, I was driving by another church and saw a two-year-old toddler... girl running through the parking lot…away from her daddy. She would stop, look back, laugh and run some more. It was clear that her father was trying to coax her back without having to run after her. After all he WAS in his Sunday best. The little girl was heading for the busy street, but he could have out run her anytime. It looked like he was trying to let her have some freedom, some independence.

What I have to say to that father is -never -ever give a curly haired little girl her independence.



The little girl’s curly locks was what I noticed first...then I recognized the attitude nicely attached. You see I have a theory. Females (and maybe males) who have natural born curly hair are um…spirited individuals. The next time you’re in public…just spy on a curly locks female and see if I’m not right. Just don't let her see you.

Have I told you that I have curly hair?

Curly-locks, Curly-locks, wilt thou be mine?

There is something else I need to tell you... I think... I don't want to sound vain...but I have good hair. It’s true. Others have told me. I can give you the number of my hair stylist. She will tell you, I have good hair. It’s thick. It’s curly. It’s …well I forget what color. But my hair has always been a challenge in my life. And my theory holds true with me anyway and MY curly locks. When I "allow it", if I can wrestle it, my curly hair gives me attitude. It is and always has been a definite struggle of nature versus nurture...me and my hair.

My life did not begin with curly locks. In fact I had very little hair.

Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;

My genetic pool included two very handsome people who got together (JW can't think about that, it burns her brain). My mother started out with thick, dark, straight (unless she pin-curled it) hair. Then dad…thick, curly, red hair. Did this little girl have any chance for hair that she could comb through easily? Or hair that she could each morning shake back and forth (like in the commercials) and have each strand fall in place? Or...or hair that wouldn't, when she stepped outside on a hot steamy Missouri summer night, expand bigger than the doorway she just exited.

Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit there.

But sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam

Are you thanking God yet for your tame hair?

My mother must have tried very hard to keep this hair orderly.

And this hair

It didn't get any tamer as I got older. (Somebody tell me why I have one pant leg up and one down, pleeeeeeeeeeease tell me.)

And older.

But I think I've come to terms with my "blessing". Especially when someone told me they paid big bucks for curly locks...like mine.

And feed upon strawberries, sugar, and cream.

I like my hair these days curly or straight. But I have spent a lot of time, energy and money trying to change something that was just fine the way it was. Am I the only one? How about you? Was there something you wanted to change about yourself growing up?

PS My sweet mother will never agree that my hair was trouble growing up. She loves my hair because... she loves me.

Curly-locks, Curly-locks, wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;
But sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam
And feed upon strawberries, sugar, and cream.

Excuse me while I go sit on a cushion and feed upon fruit, artificial sweetener and a little half and half.

(Source: of nursery rhyme http://www.apples4theteacher.com/)