jane-doh-Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash


Where do I even begin to express my love for hair-smoothening. I think ever since I earned my first salary, my not-so-secret goal has been to get my hair-smoothened. And boy did I achieve that goal, three or four times at least.

The grass is greener on the side you water it or whatever

Let’s rewind back to when my mum chopped off my headful of absolute nightmarishly gorgeous curly curls when I was six. All because having one daughter with curly hair was too much to maintain or some shit like that. And they remained barely kept in a boy-cut right until I turned thirteen. If not the texture, the least I could do was take back the power of determining my hair’s length. At thirteen, I started growing my hair out. Except, now that they were growing, so was my desire to have smooth, straight hair. The grass is always greener on the other side, isn’t it?

I got through most of my adolescence hiding my crazy curls tied into a tight bun, or a pony tail that looked like a badly maintained hand duster. I was forever envying my girlfriends who could just walk out of the shower at 8 pm, ready to party at 9. They didn’t even have to run a brush through their hair!! Can you imagine living in a world where your hair is so smooth and straight that you can pretty much wear anything and you look drop dead gorgeous?

It finally happened.

I could. With my first salary, I bought myself a gorgeous saree and with my second, I booked myself my first hair-smoothening session.

It went smooth. After three to four hours, I opened the door to walk out of the salon, my newly smoothened hair falling all over my face, and I could hear at least two cars come to a screeching halt. Yes, that actually happened because I looked and felt that good let’s move on tyvm

Despite the shampoos costing my first job salary a mini heart attack, the fact that not one part of the entire process of hair-smoothening is organic except the wait, and the immense clumps of hair that I lost, my vanity had a better grip on me for the most part of my twenties.

jane-doh-Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash
Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash


Ever notice what is the highlight of our lives as the thirties draw closer? Acceptance. We find a way to accept every single thing by then. My boyfriend and I broke up? I accept. My best friend is getting married but not I? I accept. My best friend is secretly gay? I accept.

The word acceptance had a whole new meaning by the time I cut my thirtieth birthday cake, my lovely, rich curls framing my face so beautifully.

Girls and boys with curly hair, let them grow. Massage your scalp. Love it. It’ll get better. I promise.

In short, embrace your curls.

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