share your hair

Have you ever thanked your parents for your hair? Say what, you haven't? How strange. Me either. I have thanked them for many things: changing my diapers, feeding me (sometimes...), celebrating my birthdays, my education, yadda yadda yadda you know how the list goes on. The thing is, I don't think I will ever thank them for my hair. Nope. Not since Ann Elizabeth graced the planet with her gentleyetvoluptuous wavy headed self.

Emily, you're crazy. Why does it even matter? 

Maybe I am crazy. If I am, it is only because living with Ann has caused me to become crazy. Every morning we go through the same routine. I wake up, yawning and rubbing my eyes like most human beings, and as I pass the mirror I see the usuals: 

1) Mr. Cowlick is mad at me for laying on him so to get back at me he stands straight up.

 2) The Pillow Crease. You know when you put your hair in a ponytail and when you take the rubber band out you have a crease in your hair? (oh my gosh, I need hairapy). Well, when I lay against the pillow and some of my hair happens to fold under or fold over or lie any way but straight down, I get a crease in it. This is my hair trying to be wavy/curly. 

3) Tangles. Self explanatory. They come, they takeover, and they hurt. 

I start to walk away pretending that I am totally okay with waking up like that. I am totally okay with never being able to like, sleep in and have to get up in a hurry to get somewhere on time without showering or doing anything and still look just great. Just as I am starting to feel like I'm on top of the hairworld, in walks Ann-y poo. Dun dun dun. Now, at first glance Ann looks like a normal human being as well. Do not be fooled! It is very important to stay focused. After yawning and rubbing her eyes and looking in the mirror at what appears to be a head full of messy hair, you will see Ann's hand slowly reach up and start to pull out the rubber band that has been restraining the curls and waves and goodness from eating her face all night. 

POOF.

I take the time to blink (mistake), and when I look again Ann's hair is perfect. Literally. Waves framing that ever so presh sleepy headed face. Not one hair outta place. (until I run up and punch her in the face...)

Sometimes I pretend I DO have Ann's hair, so what?

 I wanted a sister SO badly. I wanted to share shoes. Ann wears a 7, I wear a 9. I wanted to share clothes. Ann is size negative negative zero, I am not. I wanted to share hair tips. Ann does nothing and washes her hair annually. I do everything and still have hair straighter than paper and to prevent looking as greasy as a Big Mac, I wash my hair everyday. 

Ann, if you're reading this, I do love you. Mostly for your hair. Oh, p.s.-that's also the reason I don't love you so much. 

side note: This post was not written so that I could complain (really...). I wrote it just to let you all know that the Bruno Mars line, "your hair, your hair falls perfectly without you trying." was in fact written after Mr. Mars saw Ann one morning.