It's Not About The Hair...

To say that the Singapore climate is not kind to curly hair is an understatement. The sudden rain, the unrelenting humidity. My hair has on occasion reached new highs, and not in a good way, in a Marge Simpson-like way. My hair, once prompted my son to rush out of the school bus demanding: "What happened to your hair?"

Umm, I washed it...and then waited for your bus while it dried naturally?
But sometimes I wonder. Maybe the curls are good, maybe frizzy builds character. Why is it then that I spend a good part of the morning rush hour forced by my five year old to blow dry her hair straight?

Is it because I still remember when I was little and I had a rubber band wrapped unceremoniously by my Mom around my unruly pony tail in the mornings? My hair pulled back so tightly that I spent the rest of the school day with eyes wide open like a deer caught in the headlights. And at night time when the rubber band was taken out there was always some of my hair still attached to it. Could be...