My Dream Of My Keratina-Personal Narrative

It seemed like a day after seating for two hours on the beauty salon. Imagining it makes me laugh. A small nine-year-old girl, sitting on top of cushions on a very high chair, with a mountain of tint-foils in her head. It burned, it itched and its citrusy smell got me dizzy, but my dream was coming true. I convinced my mom of getting a “keratina”. I finally got rid of that poofy hair I had. Before my “keratina”, I remember standing in the mirror for hours complaining on my hair. “Entre más lo criticas peor. Empieza a decir que es lindo para que veas como cambia”, my mom used to say; and she still does. It is the classic motherly attempt to make children feel better. However, I always knew that nothing would ever make me feel better than getting rid of the thick jumping springs I had as hair. My mom always tells me how, when she found out she was expecting a girl, she asked God for a “rizitos de oro”. She disliked her common straight hair, so her dream was to have a daughter with curls. Little did she know that, to me, my curls seemed like the exact

My mom made me wear a huge ribbon right in the middle of my head. I always say I looked like “la pequeña Lulu” from Charlie Brown. Obviously, in kindergarten, my hair was not an issue. But when I started growing up, I used to look at how all my friends’ hair was never messy, or at least as not as freezy as mine. I do not remember my reaction the first time I got a “blower”, but I can imagine feeling comfortable, confident and pretty. It is easy for me to imagine that feeling because I still feel that way every single time I get a blow dry. I feel like my face changes and, as illogical as it sounds, I even feel skinnier. Every girl with lightweight straight hair used to tell me how they would die for the curls I used to have. Girls say that I looked much better with my natural hair. I always thought they were lying, and I still