When I was really little —like, 5 to 10 little—my mom wouldn't let me go to sleep with wet hair.

All this meant was that if I took a bath or shower at night, I would have to dry my hair before going to sleep.

In elementary school, this drove me crazy. First, as far as I knew I was the only person who had to do this of all of my friends and it made absolutely no sense. I remember girls would have swim practices in the morning in the dead of winter and walk outside with no hat and soaking wet hair.

The second reason was that it meant my mom would have to dry my hair, and though I love my mom, I have to admit our hair-drying sessions were never the most pleasant.

I should explain: I have had extremely frizzy, bushy hair my entire life. It's an absolute pain to get a comb or brush through. I'm talking like Princess Mia from "The Princess Diaries" pre-makeover — that level of bushy. I also must confess, I was a squirmish child, and so there was a lot of yelling and accidental hair pulling that occurred in those 15 minutes (that seemed to last hours). So yes, it was largely my fault.

Nevertheless, the main reason my mom didn't let me go to sleep with wet hair was the same reason she insisted I wear a hat in the winter. She was worried I would catch a cold. She was worried my wet hair would be pressed against my head, make me cold, and then I would get sick. For the record, I am still unsure of the consensus on the relationship between being cold and catching a cold.

What matters is that I was not allowed to have wet hair when I went to sleep — end of discussion.

There were a few nights, however, when I did.

The first I remember well. It was generally my mom who would dry my hair at night but if she wasn't around, my dad would do it. Not nearly as skilled in the art if hair drying, I remember distinctly, on a couple of occasions, I would go to bed after my dad dried my hair thinking it was dry, only to discover a few minutes after my head hit the pillow that it most certainly was not. I remember one night I got up from bed three or four times because my hair wasn't completely dry, and yes, when I was six, I was worried I would get sick immediately.

Flash forward to middle school, I went to a summer camp. I was living in an un-air-conditioned room, and so I figured there was no way — if I went to bed with wet hair after taking a shower — that I would get sick. The opposite occurred. Though the room was by no means hot, I woke up a few hours later drenched in sweat. I realize now it is unlikely this had anything to do with my wet hair, but at the time I was convinced it had something to do with it. On top of that, it was just annoying, I felt like my hair was sticking to my face, whereas I could usually push it away. I wasn't used to it.

Flash forward again, I discovered along the way that going to bed with wet hair does not obligate that hair to be dry when I wake up, and so I have woken up with wet hair and a wet pillow — a feeling I cannot stand.

Alas, now 20 years old, I do not sleep with wet hair. I always blow dry it if it is still wet before I go to bed. It's like I'm compelled to do so. However, there have been a few nights where I've just been too exhausted to do so. And so I sleep with wet-ish hair, and lo and behold, I wake up with damp hair ... and a throbbing headache.

Don't ask! I have absolutely no idea why this happens. But I'm convinced I'm particularly vulnerable when I have wet hair. Jokingly, I blame my mom, as no one else seems to have this problem!

My body just can't handle having wet hair.

Another aside — if ever I'm sitting in a room near an air conditioning vent, where I can consciously feel the cool air hitting my head, I always get a headache. Always. And so I sometimes awkwardly wear a hat indoors for no reason.

Anyway, that leads to the end of my rant.

I am convinced of the Wet Hair Theory — I will catch a cold, get a headache, or somehow be uncomfortable with wet or cold hair. I've also convinced myself this makes sense: since I'm mentally and physically used to having dry hair, I inherently can't adjust otherwise. At least, it has never gone well.

I've always wanted to share this observation, even though it doesn't make complete sense to me either.

I'll consider it a quirk — like a personal rule I have to follow to keep myself on track.

Though I'm not quite sure it could be turned into a fun fact, it is funny, I must admit, to put into words.