Hey you, you curly pile of happiness sitting on my head,

I love you.

I wish I had loved you my whole life.

I wish I had appreciated the way you wore bright pink barrettes, always falling in my face during pictures. I wish that I swished you to and fro more often, letting you be a little bit more carefree. I wish I took more time appreciating you, and less time frying you every morning because I hated you for what you were not.

I wish the both of us didn't succumb to pressure and shrivel up a little bit, ashamed of what we had become. I wish I didn't blame you for the name-calling. I wish I didn't call you ugly so that no one else could say it first, resenting your bounces and coils all while wishing I could trade you in for something that didn't make me stand out. I wish I didn't apologize in advance before anyone touched you, as if you needed a warning label. As if you were some type of monster.

I am sorry for believing that you were prettier loaded with chemicals, thinned out, dead and sad. I am sorry for pinning you back, covering you up with scarves and hats, spending unreal amounts of money to hide what I was not proud of, refusing to let anyone see either of us if I didn't feel like you met my expectations.

I now cut you with grace, giving you more room to flourish. Barrettes and scarves are no longer covering mechanisms, they are meant to bring attention to you and all your glory. I am proud of you, and everything you have become. Despite how often I put myself at war with you, you have prevailed, teaching me things about myself each and every day. I can't wait to pass you on to another lucky child, and teach them to love you as much as I do now.

Thank you for being you while I was still figuring out how to be me