A Bad Hair Day by Ilona Mathie

By Ilona Mathie

Written in class, see the Writing Lesson Plan: Fashion Makes the Man (or Woman)

You might have a bad hair day now and again, I suppose most people do. Well, most women, anyway. Not me though. Oh no.  I have a bad hair week, a bad hair month, a bad hair year, a bad hair life.

I blame it on my parents, they bear equal responsibility. Dad’s Irish you see, and red hair runs in his family. Not that beautiful russet red, with glints of gold in, that would have been very nice, thank you. Not that gorgeous deep auburn shade either, that makes you think of conkers and the changing colours of autumn. No, what lucky me got what can only be described as carrot red. A proper ginger minger, that’s me. I’m not even going to tell you the nicknames I got called at school, bet you can guess, it doesn’t take much imagination.

So, that’s dad’s contribution to my humiliation. Mum didn’t exactly help either. Not that she’s got red hair, oh no, she’s the perfect blonde bombshell, with Shirley Temple curls that frame a heart shaped face. Dad always says it melted his heart the first time he ever saw her. And did I inherit that lovely heart shaped face? No, I did not, but what I DID get was the most unruly curls it was ever a girl’s misfortune to have. Curls so thick that I could barely drag a brush through them and which made hair washing sessions when I was a toddler pure torture: it’s a wonder the neighbours never called Child Protection Services to come round when they heard my screams.

Those curls refused to be coaxed or tamed into any of the fashionable styles, they just did exactly what they wanted to do. As for when it rained?? I leave that one to your imagination, but yes , a lot of frizz was involved. I cursed my carrot curls every day of my life, although, actually, I’ve stopped now. I’ve changed my mind. Well, had it changed for me , sort of thing.

It turns out that the nicest and best looking man in the entire world, who just happens to be my boyfriend, LOVES my hair. Says it’s what first attracted him to me. Likes nothing better than running his fingers through those springy curls. So maybe it’s alright after all.

Maybe what I need to do is to say “thanks, mum and dad” !