You condition every day. You condition more times than you can count.
“My hair has a mind of its own,” you say. People laugh. They think you are joking. You are not joking. Your hair laughs, too.
You cannot remember the last time you washed your hair. It might have been the last full moon. For some reason, you can’t recall.
Someone asks if you have a brush. The word seems familiar, like a distant memory, but you can’t quite remember what it means.
“Comb? You mean, looking for seashells on the beach?”
You pull your hair up and reach into your bag for a bobby pin. You swear you bought a full pack yesterday, but somehow they have all disappeared.
This is not unusual to you.
You buy another pack.
You have to buy another one tomorrow.
You try every product that exists. None of them work. You think you’ve found one that works, but then it is discontinued. You are no longer sure it even existed to begin with.
Someone tells you your hair looks great today. Your hair grows ten sizes. “Thank you,” you say, stiffly. Your hair prickles the back of your neck. You force a smile. “I love my hair.”
There is always frizz. You have forgotten what it is like to live without frizz. The weather, the day, the year all change, but the frizz remains. There is always frizz.
You pull a hair off of a friend’s jacket. It is yours. It is always yours. All of your friends are covered in layers of your hair. It has always been this way.
You pull clumps of your own hair out of the shower drain, yet every day, you seem to have more hair than the day before.
You purchase every anti-frizz product at every drugstore. You can never find them after you pay for them.
Someone with straight hair tells you they wish they had your hair. “No,” you intone, while your hair rustles and grows menacingly. “You don’t.”
You finally manage to straighten your hair. It has taken hours. You cannot remember doing anything else. Perhaps you never have. You step outside. It is as if you never straightened your hair at all. Perhaps you never did.
Everyone you see with curly hair has better hair than yours. When you spot each other, you look at each other and say only, “Hair envy,” before moving on.
You ask everyone how they manage their curls. Everyone answers differently. Everyone says the same thing. You cannot recall asking anyone, but you know with certainty you have asked everyone.