It seems to be a personal sharing week for me, but, oh well, here I go again. My mother was widowed when I was three years old, so at that time, for the first time since having my oldest brother (who was 16), she went to work. This resulted in her having zero energy or desire to help me style my hair. The woman wore wigs for the majority of her adult life, so it was a clear indication that she didn’t want to be bothered with her own hair, let alone her daughter’s. My four older sisters hated doing my hair, too, because I was “tender-headed.” I really was, and my hair was often a dense, tangled morass of curls that was difficult to get a comb through. Forget about trying to press/straighten it with a hot comb either, as I’d cry and wail just at the sight of one. So, besides using boxed at-home perms, the majority of my youth was spent wearing askew pigtails or up in a sloppy bun. It…
#DadsDoHairToo Shows How Fathers Help Shape Their Daughters’ and Sons’ Self-Esteem – RedState
