Everyone wants what they don’t have. It’s just the way life goes. If you have straight hair you want curly and if it’s curly you want straight. If you are too tall you want to be shorter and if you have a big nose you want a smaller one and if you have thin lips you want fuller ones. If you are pale you want to be tan. You get it. Well, I’m the girl with the curls that wanted straight hair. Not just curls, Shirley Temple curls, or as my ever so affectionate older brother used to call me, “Ramona Africa.” Yes, don’t worry about being politically correct this was in the 1980’s during “Move.” He couldn’t help himself. He was a brat and older so it was his job to pick on me.
When I was nineteen the big Jersey hair days were growing old and straight hair was in. Every girl at college had pretty straight hair and I was determined to get mine to cooperate. I was always on the cutting edge of fashion and up with the latest trends. So, I made a quick appointment at my beauty salon and asked for the latest straightening treatment. My hair stylist kept saying, “Are you sure, you have beautiful hair and it may never be the same after this, the products too new and I’m not familiar enough with it yet.” I just said, “Yup, do it.” And, a few hours later I left with shiny, straight long hair like my old Brook Sheild’s doll head. You know the one if you were a child in the eighties. You could do her hair in million different ways!
I left happy but when I got home my mom wasn’t so thrilled. She was upset that I tried to change my hair- my natural born curls that women die for and I went and got them straightened! I must have been nuts in her opinion. But, somewhere in her face I could see that she just didn’t want me to change who I was or what made me…me. She knew I was always her confident daughter and I was, but I wanted to try something different-just this once. Soon after I noticed that my hair was frizzier than ever and it didn’t look as pretty as it did before. I learned that I hated it and wanted to go back to me. But, there was no quick fix and I had to wait for it to grow out before I could be myself again.
It’s fourteen years later and I totally understand my mother’s message better now. If and when I should have children I hope that they never try to change who they are not even for a second. I hope that they don’t want plastic surgery because they don’t have the proper size breasts or their nose is too big and their lips are too small. I hope they realize that God makes us who we are and we are perfect in his creation.
I’m not super religious, but I am super confident and believe in a higher being and myself. I came in this world alone and I’m going out alone. I finally know exactly who I am and where I want to go. I don’t judge people the way I used to or talk about people to make myself feel better. That’s kid stuff. Today I visited a dear friend and her daughter is twelve. She’s in that tumultuous, pre-teen, puberty is about to make me recognize every flaw I have, stage! She sat at the picnic table and told me that she hates her body and won’t wear a bikini. For a quick second I thought I am thrilled she doesn’t want to wear a bikini because it seemed like yesterday we were changing her diapers! But, then, I felt chills in my spine because here sits a beautiful young girl with the longest legs and beautiful face and thin frame and she hates her body? I told her to be fierce and love who you are and put on that bikini and strut your stuff…well not now maybe in ten years once we have accepted she is going to grow up even if we don’t want her to- but be fierce at every age. She said, “I’m just not like that.” and I said, “Learn to be that way because you are beautiful.” She smiled and gave me that you don’t know what I mean Janine because you were never this age look. I laughed inside.
I felt like my mother for a second. Every magazine will show you some pretty young thing on the cover and on every other page as you flip through. But, they are all air-brushed and probably insecure and a little too self-aware. We all want things we sometimes do not have. We want to be perfect in the eyes of others. But, I promise we hit an age and we realize that we are perfect. I swear self-esteem should be just as important as learning the alphabet. I want to thank my parents for teaching it and I want to encourage others to learn it, value it, and pass it on.
When I look back at old pictures I like myself way better with the curls. I have finally accepted and truly love them. In the end I would rather accept my curls than worry about everybody else accepting my curls. Love who you are and love everything about yourself…you were perfectly made to be you. ACCEPT, APPRECIATE, AND EMBRACE “The Curls” that life is going to throw your way.
