I had spent about a half an hour on my hair. Washing, drying, and straightening it for the party. And like always, I checked the mirror about twenty times before I walked out the door. It was as perfect as it was going to get.
And now it’s twisted into three messy, knotted braids on top of my head. When my little cousin came up to me with her little brush and hair ties I knew I was doomed.
I was nice though, and I let her take over. She gave me pigtails, not exactly the end of the world. Then my wonderful, loving older cousin decided to show her how to braid. Now I look like one of the characters from a Dr.Seuss book.
But to my surprise, I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t even embarrassed as my relatives laughed hysterically at my new hair style. I just watched my cousin happily playing with my hair. I didn’t care what she did as long as she was happy.
Normally I hate this sort of thing. But I guess the reason I let her do this to me, was because I loved her. That’s all that matters.