A Day in the Life of ... my hair

I am so not a hair person.  It is time consuming and I'd rather not deal with it.  I am pretty sure my hair knows this by now.

If my hair could speak I am sure this conversation has taken place several times over the years.

Reflections from my hair...

She's up early enough; there is plenty of time for her to add some product and comb me, pick me, brush me or something.  It wouldn't take so long if she was consistent with putting me in two French braids at night like she used to.  Well, a few hours have passed, and she still hasn't touched me...they must not be leaving today.

I am not my hair

She's starting to pick up speed. She's combing the girls' hair. She's placed the dog in the crate.  Is she going to remember? Well, maybe if she goes in front of the mirror instead of going directly to the front door. 

She's headed to her room. She sees me ... she stops. 

She's actually opening the cabinet to get out hair product.  She's going to actually make me presentable today, and her hubby didn't have to remind her.  Fifteen minutes, and she is done.  I don't understand why she makes it such a task when it only takes her 15 minutes, give or take. I am hoping I get the same treatment tomorrow. 

We'll see.

It's been over four years and two hair cuts later, and my hair is still having the same conversation.  I can't help but to think that India.Arie penned I Am Not My Hair just for me.