If I were to have a conversation with my hair, here is how I would imagine it going. First, let me set the scene. It’s just another school morning. I have my outfit ready, and now it’s time to attempt to conquer the one thing that I always leave last: my hair.

Me: Hi. (Insert awkward pause here while I look at my hair in the mirror.) How’s it going?

My hair: Wazzzzzzup!! I’m just hanging out here. On your head. Like I always do.

Me: So are you going to cooperate today? Maybe let me do something other than a ponytail? You know if you’d just grow a little longer I could do a little more with you.

My hair: *laughs maniacally* You know I don’t grow down. I just grow out. Don’t you get it? You’re BLACK. All I’ll ever do is kink and coil.

Me: Not true, and you know it! Don’t make me pull out the flat iron!

My hair: You wouldn’t.

Me: I would. Or maybe I’ll even put you in braids. Just leave you covered in extensions for months.

My hair: Now that I know you would never do. You fear the pain.

Me: Pain is beauty, honey. Speaking of, it’s time to either drown or strangle you. Take your pick.

My hair: You know what, do both. Today’s not my day, so it won’t be yours. 

Me: The threats will never end will they? *reaches for hair gel and a spritzer bottle* 

My hair: So what are you planning on doing with me today?

Me: I have no idea. Let me just part you first.

My hair: I’m parted. What next?

Me: French twists into puffs? That always works.

My hair: Can’t you ever think of something original? It’s always the same thing with you. It’s either a ponytail or french twists into two puffs.

Me: I don’t like you much right now. 

My hair: *cackles*

Me: *mutters* Time to try a new tactic. *aloud* What if I told you I loved you? I mean, I do, I guess.

My hair: What is love really? Is love making me look all pretty or is it just letting me be?

Me: Hmm. Good question. 

My hair: Why don’t you just pull out some of that shea moisture and let the bangs out? Maybe leave everything out of a ponytail?

Me: Not a bad idea. I like where you’re going with this. *pulls out the myriad of Shea Moisture products I have at my dispense*

My hair: I’m a little dry today so add a little more of that conditioner than usual.

Me: You’re the boss. *under my breath* even though you shouldn’t be.

My hair: What’s that you say? You know I could have made you spend an hour flat twisting me last night, but I didn’t. 

Me: You’re right. Of course, I’m ever so grateful. 

My hair: Now, don’t I look great? Look at me in the mirror. 

Me: Not bad. Not bad. What about adding some of these barrette clips we bought? We could try something new.

My hair: One thing at a time. You don’t really know how to manage me yet. I’ve been straightened or in braids for awhile now. Just let me be, please.  

Me: What about just one barrette clip?

My hair: Fine. Try it. Just don’t get upset when I tell you I told you so.

Me: It looks bad.

My hair: I. Told. You. So.

Me: *sniffles*

My hair: Quit the tears. I look great, you look great. Let’s go.

Me: *checks my phone* Dang, you’re right. Even though we look great, I don’t want a dramatic entrance because of tardiness this morning. Just try not to flatten yourself in the car.

My hair: Will do, honey.