My friends all call me a poodle. Don’t worry, it’s not in a demeaning or mean-spirited way, it’s just that I’ve always been the token friend with curly hair. I know that hair may be a superficial thing to think about, but it makes up a decent chunk of one’s appearance so it actually matters a little more than you might think. Well, at least my hair means a lot to me. I would almost go as far as to say that I have a relationship with my hair, treating it as an entity partially. It hasn’t always been a good relationship, but it’s definitely better now than it was four years ago. My hair has also impacted my mental health in some ways, believe it or not. So let me give you the run down of my hair journey, and how I’ve had to go through hurdles for my curls.
Okay, I haven’t always had curly hair. Actually, when I was a kid I had stick straight, platinum blonde hair. However, when I hit puberty at the ripe old age of 13, my hair started turning curly. Now I have no idea why my hair turned curly, no one in my family has curly hair so it’s honestly a mystery. The reasonable bet would be that it was a direct result of my hormones increasing and changing drastically, but I don’t like to think of it that way. I’ve also talked to multiple cosmetologists and they’ve all said it’s very uncommon for hair to turn from straight to curly during puberty. For the most part, curly hair typically turns straight after childhood. So, after consulting these professionals I just decided that I’m special.
Anyways, I struggled to maintain and accept the fact that my hair was changing so much, and in such a short amount of time. I actually destroyed my hair by straightening it everyday, and just by simply refusing to acknowledge that my hair was anything but straight as it had always been. I didn’t want my hair to be curly, none of my friends had curly hair and I didn’t want to be the odd one out. Curly hair isn’t usually depicted as a beauty standard in our society either, and even less so at the time my hair was waging a war against me. My hair became my biggest insecurity very easily, and very rapidly.
I didn’t start accepting my hair for how it was until around my sophomore year of high school. I was tired of my hair looking dry, and I’d completely fried the ends of it. In simple terms, it just looked gross. So I eventually decided to completely swear off using heat on my hair and I began taking better care of it. I can’t even tell you how many hours I spent cumulatively researching curly hair care methods and products. I instantly ordered a satin pillowcase to help protect my curls over night, and started using products to help moisturize my hair and protect my curl pattern. It took a while, but I noticed my curl pattern actually started holding ringlets instead of loose “beachy” waves.
By taking better care of my hair, it started looking better and feeling better as well. As I started noticing these changes, I slowly but surely gained more confidence with my natural hair. I came to terms with the fact that maybe I didn’t have “beauty standard” hair, but it was still mine, and still a part of me.
I personally think that our outer appearances have a massive impression on how we present ourselves to the world. If you’re not confident in your appearance, you won’t present yourself in that way. By actually taking care of my hair, I felt better about my appearance, which tremendously helped my confidence boost.
Now I’m extremely thankful that I have curly hair. I maybe straighten my hair once in a blue moon just for fun, and as a shock factor to new friends of course. My curly hair is a part of me, and a part of how I identify myself. Looking back I get mad at myself for not appreciating what some people would kill for. I don’t care that my friends refer to me as a poodle anymore, and I see it more as a term of endearment. It’s counted as a huge part of accepting and loving myself for who I am, and I honestly couldn’t be more thankful.
So take it from me, no matter what you look like, poodle or not, you’re beautiful just the way you are. If I can overcome my hair plotting my demise as a hormone-filled teenager, you can accept what you think your flaws are. Besides, I think what we view as flaws will always be beautiful to someone else, and I find that kind of special. So I’m fine being a poodle, but I might have to pass on the dog tags.