My Crazy Curly Hair
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----an essay by Caroline O'Gara
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Being an annoying little sibling was my full-time job for about ten years of my childhood. Each of my annoying behaviors stemmed from my insecurities, attempting again and again to compensate for my lack of confidence. I knew I would never be known as the cute little sibling; that was entirely the job of my little sister Katie. My crazy curly hair, crooked smile, and lack of style, were completely incomparable to Katie’s cute little girl giggle, her sweet youngest-child-charm, and her flowy tame curls. This is not to say I felt jealous of my little sister but simply overshadowed by her beauty. All of these thoughts that I kept to myself were instead channeled into my behavior. I became a very irritable child, a child who knew exactly how to push the buttons of each one of her five siblings. Shoving, hitting, spying, whining; you name it, I probably did it.
As I lay down on the couch impatiently waiting for my favorite homemade meal– Chicken French crafted from a secret family recipe– I could hardly contain my excitement. Anticipation for the meal, of course, but more so for the arrival of my brother’s new girlfriend. I grew bored of waiting, and deciding to be done with the couch, I sprung up to my feet, taking a moment to calculate my next move. I quickly decided on the usual; running back and forth across the worn down navy blue living room carpet, doing a few unsuccessful handstands against the shiny brown leather couch, and finally, cartwheels with no regard for the disruption I was causing to the latest episode of Alex Trebek’s Jeopardy playing on the television. Of course, each and every mission of mine was completed with my little sister Katie by my side, partly because we’ve always been best friends, and partly because if anything went sideways I wouldn’t have to fully take the blame. Our hyperness slowly wined down as our energy drained and dinner inched closer and closer. I sat down at the table huffing and puffing, poured myself a tall glass of Sunny-D and began to think, zoning out like I so often did. Kyle’s brought home a couple of interesting characters before, neither of them being sister-like in the way that I had hoped. I wished and wished that this new girl named Izzy would like to be my friend. For some reason unbeknownst to me, his past high school girlfriends would never want to play with me. I would offer up Barbies, Clue, or even a Walt Disney version of trivia! But again and again, there were never any takers of my golden opportunities.
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As I zoned out of my daze, Katie ran up and shouted, nearly bursting my eardrums, “She’s here, she’s here!” I perked up, and almost spilling my glass of Sunny-D, I ran to the front bay window, peeking behind the matching worn out navy curtains to get a glimpse of the new girl. As I spotted her, I let out a squeal of joy and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness she has curly hair like me!” I watched her walk up to my house, with her dyed red tight curls bouncing as she stepped. A moment of true revelation for my six-year-old self, realizing that someone so beautiful has hair just like mine. She stepped up the front porch as Kyle opened the squeaky glass door and held it open for her. It was this very moment that I was suddenly hit with a tidal wave of shyness, only allowing myself to peek out from behind the living room door frame. I benched myself for a bit as I gathered my thoughts. I need to try my hardest to mask my annoying tendencies and for once come off as a cool little sister.
As I tiptoed through the threshold from the living room to the kitchen, I decided to pause my game plan. After all, it would be much easier for me to sit, listen, and say nothing…right? So on I went, doing exactly that. As dinner passed by, I connected the dots and realized that this picture looks a little bit different than the ones before. I listened intently, absorbing the conversation as I walked straight into an epiphany. This girl is normal, this girl is kind, this girl is smart. Each one of these things about her that I found so different from the previous girlfriends was highlighted and bolded in my mind. She is a wonderful person, a wonderful person who has the same curly hair as I, a wonderful person who is not defined by her hair, but rather, a wonderful person who was blessed with it.
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As Izzy’s visits became more and more frequent, the little-girl-excitement of my sister and I never dulled. Not only did the excitement never dull, but my fascination with Izzy’s hair never dulled either. Somehow, she managed to always style her hair so beautifully. Even when Izzy would complain, “My hair looks crazy today!” I never saw what she saw. I shared with her over and over my admiration of her hair and my frustrations with my own. Izzy sympathized with me, “I know exactly what you’re talking about, I never knew what to do with my hair. It took some trial and error with different products and methods, but I eventually figured it out.” Not only did she offer me this reassurance, but she also offered me a spa day! Soon after, we spent an entire afternoon going over the ins and outs of hair care. She styled each of my curls individually, and I had never felt so beautiful. It took me all too long to realize, even though I now loved my hair, I would still be the same person I was before.
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Truthfully, it never mattered what my hair looked like, what really mattered was the stuff you can not see. Kindness, compassion, service; all of the things that truly defined me as a person. That day was a turning point for me, a day where I realized my worth, a day where I realized that looks did not define me, a day where I realized that I would no longer have to compensate for my lack of confidence with annoyance.
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Although she doesn’t know it, Izzy’s random act of kindness had a huge impact on the trajectory of my life. I became a person who finally valued myself, a person who no longer needed that validation from outside sources. The fact that my looks no longer define me has been a heavy weight lifted off of my chest. It has made room for extra kindness and care in my heart that I am now able to pass on to others. This fullness of my heart with the things that really matter is exactly what will allow me to make a difference, pursue my dreams, and to be the best role model that I can be to Oliver, the firstborn child of Kyle and Izzy and the first child to make me an aunt.