A Post on Hair

We ladies at my house dedicate much time and effort to the perfection of our lustrous and beautiful locks.

Not!

Hair is a pain, a trial, and a great tribulation around here, for all of us. Today as I did my schoolwork, I could here Milo screeching while Mom cut his hair. Giles' haircut is going on at this very moment; his face is drawn in an expression of anguish. Last night, I attempted to brush my hair; a venture which resulted in nothing but frizz and screams of agony.
On the particular day this picture was taken, I thought it would be "fun" to try and see what my hair looked like straightened. The (very, excruciatingly painful) process took nigh over an hour. It was, to put it mildly, not an experiance to be repeated. So now I never straighten my hair.
During the summer, I once on a Saturday put my hair in French braids and then I went swimming. Big Mistake! I couldn't get those nasty braids out until the next Friday. So I don't French braid my hair.
My main problem is that have a very tender head. The slightest stroke of a brush produces bellows enough to rival those of a howler monkey.
What do I do with my hair? I wish we were all born bald. Perhaps in Heaven we will be. Can you imagine having to brush hair out of your eyes while you bowed in homage to the King of kings? I don't think so. Or maybe in Heaven hair will never tangle and I'll only have half as much as I do now. That would be a blessing.