My Weapon of Choice

Frizzy and misshapen, I drag my curls out of bed, to have the mirror brief me on their current visual. Every day something new. Frizzy days attack. The hair tie is my weapon of choice. Mane secured safely away from my face, ready for fast paced adventure. Tightly wound curls strike in times of high stress. I wrestle with the small knots as they sit proudly on my head, boasting of their victory only to be overtaken yet again by the dutiful hair tie. Smoother curls appear in waves every so often, giving me hope that my hair will become an allied force. That we will work together without a power struggle. But even then my hair tie is at the ready