A year or so ago, when my sister had just started her freshman year at university, once I woke up very early in the morning as the lights in the room had been switched on to find her looking very busy. I looked at my watch, which probably said 500am.
I thought maybe she was revising before the exam. But no, believe it or not, at the crack of dawn, my sister was flat ironing her thick, wavy hair — she had a presentation later on in the day. While I’m not oh-I’m-too-busy-to-care-about-fashion type this was a little over the top. For my sister, this became a routine.
If it’s a presentation, straighten. If it’s a party, straighten. If it’s a wedding, straighten. Every important event required an hour of straightening. Inspired by her, I took to the flat iron as well.
Habits grow on me very quickly, so I, too, became a straightening addict and fell in love with my new sleek looking hair. What I didn’t realise was that my hair was different from my sister’s and that my poor thin tresses wouldn’t be able to bear being burnt so often.
The process of flat ironing took its toll on my hair, and I started to lose hair to the extent that I had to consult a dermatologist and was made to buy expensive potions to re-grow the lost hair. And thus ended my short-lived happiness with my straight hair.
