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I love my mom, but I grew up hating the only thing I got from her- my curly hair. Ever since then, I always wondered how my mother can spo...

How My Daughter Taught Me To Love The Thing I Grew Up Hating

By 9:45:00 AM , ,

I love my mom, but I grew up hating the only thing I got from her- my curly hair. Ever since then, I always wondered how my mother can sport her curls in such a classy way.

Her curly hair just fall perfectly on her head even if its a boy cut. Yep, her very short curly hair made everyone who sat beside her look less pretty. Yet, I didn't feel the same admiration for my own version of curls. Sorry mom, but instead I grew up hating it!

Growing up, I wished I had a normal hair, like almost every girl in school. Their straight hair made them wear different hairstyles that complemented well with their face while I secretly wish mom never handed me down the genes that carried this curly trait.

Elementary days were always bad hair days. As much as I tried keeping it neat, it just fall off everywhere, then I would secretly consider myself a walking bird's nest. I never cared for combs, hair gel, oil and etc. - I just gave up like how my hair gave up on me too. Good thing I was a smart ass in the class or else I would grow old telling tales to my grandchildren how I was bullied for having the scariest and messiest hair in the class.

Sorry mom, but I definitely grew up hating it!

I would always be glad for mornings. My curly hair look so manageable when wet, giving me little chances to just let it loose, free from scrunchies and feel gorgeous. But it always comes back naturally. Then the hate starts to sink in. Sorry mom, but I really hate it.

Then came my little girl. While I was pregnant, I fervently prayed that my daughter will have the same shiny and straight hair like her father. But I guess God has all the reasons to give her the same curls I grew up hating.

I was saddened by the fact that she can't have a shiny hair that all little girls would stare at with admiration in school. These silly thoughts came swirling in my head...

  • She can't wear different stylish cuts to celebrate her youth.
  • She can't make those adorable hair clips and headbands look cute on her hair.
  • She can't be the famous girl in school. She might be bullied for having that messy curls.
  • She could be a wall flower. She'll grow old asking why it has to be her.
  • She'll grow old hating it! Just like the way I did.

But it was the exact opposite. My 4-year old daughter actually enjoys the attention she gets for sporting a curly hair. I can see it in her innocent eyes. She loves playing with her hair. She loves donning it with cute clips. She enjoys combing every bit of her strands. She's perfectly in love with it.

Until one sunny day. She decided to have it short just like her Granny's pixie cut (I told myself that this would be the start of a hate story). So off we went to a hair salon.

Right there at that moment, I hoped my daughter didn't hear the very last words I'd want her to hear- the rejection she'd get that they can't do other cuts with her hair, the truth that her hair is too hard to style and all the hurtful reasons you'd hear from a hairstylist turning down a young girl who only wishes to have a nice-looking pixie cut with her curly hair.

I was hurt for my daughter. I hated myself for passing her with this genes. I was fuming with anger and sadness. I was almost in tears when I felt two little arms around my waist.

My daughter then said, "It's alright, mom. They're not just good enough to style a beautiful hair."

When people would comment on how curly her hair is, she would beam at them and say, "Thank you." I can always tell that she'd consider herself lucky to have such curls. She prides with confidence wearing that hair. It falls perfectly on her cute chubby face. I can see happiness in her eyes when she looks in the mirror, how her big curls make her even more adorable.

I'm glad she's happy with her curls. I'm glad how people like her even more with her curly hair. I'm glad she'll grow up not hating it like the way I did. I'm glad she loves me more for giving her such hair. I'm glad it looks perfectly on her face. I'm glad that she taught me to love myself for who I am.

I'm glad, mom. Sorry for hating it.


(I'll forever be missing you 'Nay. Someday, somehow, I'll find that missing piece you left behind.)

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