“Oh my god! Your hair look absolutely stunning!” exclaimed Swati. I smiled innocently, secretly gloating inside. Of late I am getting used to such compliments. And I can’t say how much I am loving it. I can once again wear my favorite hairstyle - a thick braid that goes straight till the end without tapering. I am wearing my braided hair everywhere these days – to office, to parties, to hangouts – everywhere. I don’t anymore have to tie my hair in a boring bun to hide the horribly split ends I used to have not so long ago. “What have you been doing? I mean last time I saw you…” Swati said again. “I know I know. Last time you saw me, my hair was all frizzy and dry. I know. Don’t remind me.” “It’s like the old you again, remember in school?” “How can I ever forget?” Swati and I were childhood friends. We studied in the same school and college. Even though our jobs keep us away from each other these days, we make it a point to meet as often as we can. Like now, she flew 1200 miles to meet me in the disguise of attending my brother’s wedding. And just as I had hoped, she was taken aback by my renewed hair. ◊ I used to have really thick hair back in school, nearly ten years ago. Two waist length, jet black, well-oiled braids were my USP those days. Boys were in awe while girls were jealous. Oh how I loved walking past those starry eyed boys and green eyed girls. As I walked on the school ground between classes amidst my admirers, my enemies got little jealous and picked on me every now and then. With an innocent flick (I swear) of my head I used to turn to face a girl (yes, every time) and my braids would go flying like whips and slam…slam. And yet another poor girl would walk around with two distinctive red marks on her skin that would last for days. If that’s not all, I was the default female lead of all school dramas and musicals. Thanks to the cascading lengths of my hair. I was the unanimously chosen queen of the coroneted few with nice hair. I used to go back to a home where my grandma would heat up coconut oil in the sun and then apply the oil on my hair every day. During nights she would tie my hair tightly because she said it helped the growth. ◊ Then college happened. Being a queen reduced to being cool. Choppy styles, perms, funky colours and torn denims took over straight thick braids and school uniforms. Staying away from home didn’t help either. Unbalanced diet of mostly junk food put the last nail on my dying hair’s coffin. My once lovely hair became dry and frizzy. I had split ends that ran upto the shaft, ruining the whole strand of hair. I developed acute dandruff due to excessive use of hot iron and blow dryer. It came as a huge shock to me because I had always taken my hair for granted. I never noticed all those effort my grandma put to make my hair what it was. The disillusionment came with a lesson – everything pretty has a price. I started doing everything I could to regain my hair but nothing worked. It was too late. All expensive hair salons failed to bring the natural shine and texture of my hair back. I tried every homely remedy on earth, but nothing worked. My morale had hit an all-time low. And I was sick of the limp bun that hung at my nape. I had almost given up. But then a particular advert of a new shampoo from Dove on TV caught my attention. It was like the product was made for my problem specifically. Dove has always been a favorite brand of mine. And I knew if they promise something they deliver that. And frankly I had nothing left to loose! So I tried my hand with the Split End Rescue Shampoofrom Dove. And my hair started changing after just two washes. Renewed with new vigor I religiously used Dove Split End Care shampoo for two months along with the hot oil therapy of my grandmother’s and the result was unbelievable. My hair started smoothing out. And guess what, once again the my hair was perfectly healthy till the end. Most importantly I could flaunt my braids again! ◊ “You didn’t change at all”, said Agni, my brother’s best friend and best man, whom I was meeting after a very long time. He had disappeared to pursue his studies and career after teaching me how to hide small chits of papers inside my braids during exams. Back then I used to have a crush on him and going by the way my heart was beating, it was no better even now. He fondly pulled my braid a little and said, “I just love your hair, you know.” I blushed and breathed, “So do I. And believe me I am never letting it go away again!”
This post has been written for the ongoing Indiblogger contest - Beautiful Ends to your Beautiful Braids! sponsored by Dove Split End Rescue System.
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