That statement is not surprising to anyone who knows me.
I try not to complain about it too much, but sometimes, oh mercy, it frays every single one of my nerves.
Its thick mass of natural spiral curls can be an unruly menace.
When I was little, it was completely straight, silky, and resistant to curl.
But the older I've grown, the more the curl emerges, and the frizz encroaches like a calculating villain.
On countless occasions, I have been approached by strangers, usually female, asking if my hair is, indeed, naturally curly.
My response is always the same: shy smile, slight chuckle, followed by "Yes, it certainly is." Sometimes I throw in an eye roll, depending on the day.
And the kind stranger always says one of three things:
- Do you know how much money I've spent trying to make my hair do that?
- Will you trade me?
- You have to be kidding! That's a perm, right?
And then the conversation ultimately ends with one of us saying, "You always want what you don't have."
My friend Jason once told me that, if I were a giant, he would love nothing more than to shrink himself down to micro-stature, so that he could go bungee-jumping on my hair.
When he introduced me to people, he'd often say, "This is my friend Stacey, and she has bungee hair..." and then demonstrate by pulling down a curl and watching it spring back into position.
I loved this whimsical notion so much that I began using bungeehair as a pseudonym of sorts.
It feels slightly odd that I would grow to become so readily associated with the peculiarities adorning my scalp, but the silliness has helped me to embrace its quirks and hold my head high.