When I was little, I was called Cousin It, you know, from the Addams family. I was also told that one could mop the floor with my hair, that I was a poodle, and that I looked like I had been electrocuted.
And that was just my mother.
Kids in school, they were just as nice, let me tell you. But this is a struggle every curly girl is familiar with. It seems to be impossible for someone to not have an opinion on our texture.
Can I just ask – why?! Why is it your business? Why do you care?