beauty's deception

Each tiny peg strides through my curls and kinks. Ripping apart the strands that have a bond too strong to be broken. One...two...three at a time raking my scalp from top to bottom, separating my freshly washed, coconut scented locks. After what seems like hours later, I've finally accepted that my hair will not cooperate, and I give up on my lion's mane, taking a break to rest my arms. But why do I spend so much time on my hair every morning? Who am I impressing? No one knows what I look like with knotted, sopping wet hair. Or what is hard for even ME to look at after waking up from a long night's sleep. They don't know my hair like I do. All they know are these tiny plastic sticks, breaking my hair. People expect us to look presentable every day, but who are we fooling? They're all the same as me. Looking in the mirror with awful bed head. But we continue to scrape our heads, and thread our fine hairs through the many bristles attached to the brush. I for one, am no fan of this animal with claws, but I do continue to look for other's approval. Do you?