Curly hair

She has ringlet curls that cascade over her narrow shoulders. His loose waves sweep behind his ears. Her hair is stick straight. Yours is in between. You can curl your hair and be spunky and fun or you can straighten your hair and be serious. You tuck it behind your ears to show off your chiseled features. You pull it tight into a bun and each step you take it bounces and bobs, each bounce releasing one hair to fly away, a halo of wisps. She wants your hair because she wants to curl it and braid it. You want hers so you don’t have to do either. Both complain about the reciprocal benefits.
What if we liked our hair?
What if everyone agreed their hair was fulfilling?
What if we agreed the halo of wisps was power and activity, and the straight sleekness was focus and determination?
She loves your dress, you love her purse. She wants your lipstick, you want her blush. She wants your music, you want her easy-going personality.
Every day she puts in volumizing spray. Every day you straighten your hair.
What if the world was bald.