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The curly-haired society is deprived of a simple joy – brushing your hair. As a child, your mom brushes your hair, and it brings you closer. As an adult, you brush your hair, and it is going to turn into the world’s largest frizball, lifeless mess, or gross fro to ever exist. This is why very few, and I stress few, curly-haired folk comb their hair.
When the subject of combing hair comes up I’ve had straight-haired folk actually be stunned that I don’t take a brush to my head often.
“It’s not healthy!” they’ll stress, convinced my roots are super unhealthy.
“Really?” they’ll question, confused that I don’t worry about knots or rat nests.
“Lucky,” they’ll remark, jealous that I don’t have to deal with a hairbrush when getting ready.
I know people who don’t even own a brush. Personally, I have a brush, only one – a fold up pocket/mirror brush I got in Florida at Ron Jon’s Surf Shop. At my parents I had a shower comb that I would sometimes use to get knots out, I rarely actually brush my hair.
The other day, I got out of the shower, and decided to bust out my one and only hair combing device for the first time in I don’t even know how long. The little plastic nubs grazed my scalp. It was miraculous, like angels were massaging my brain. I swear the world stood still, an off stage chorus boomed as the lights dimmed to find me in a spotlight, center stage. I had no idea that this pleasure even existed. It was like my roots just fell in love and joy swept over my hair.
Naturally, my hair did not look as good as it normally does when I normally fix it. It was dull and lifeless, thus requiring clips to give the illusion of body.
My hair is not magical like my besty Erin’s, whose hair looks perfect no matter what she does with it, even if I shower at night I have to wet my hair in the morning because it is finicky. But with this new-found discovery of sex for my scalp, on those nights some serious brushing is going to occur. I’ll take my sweet time.