Its all about braids

I tie the braid

And flaunt and parade

I sing aloud

About my braid so stout

My heart dances and flounces

My ribbon like hair prances

Riding comes the prince of my dreams

Let your hair down my sweet pea

I pick the thick plait and lower it down

My prince shrieks and shouts, panic bound

I asked you to lower your hair, O Rapunzel,

Not a taut rope with damaged end, my damsel.

I wake with a shock and glance at my hair

My braid lies lifeless with frizzed dry split ends

Dreamy reminiscence of my childhood days

Adds to my misery ‘cause once I had beautiful undamaged hair.

This is my story…was my story till dove hadn’t launched its amazing Dove Split Ends Rescue System which took me back to my childhood days (as soon as I saw its ad).

Phase 1: The school long hair competition.

I guess I was in 6^th grade when I finally decided to let go of my tom boy blunt cut look to embrace the beauty of long flowing hair. I had a few of my friends giving me a competition back in those days because the long hair look and the fantasy or experiments with different versions of the French plait was very in. A year passed our hair grew, one girl’s hair reduced to a barely holding rope and she was out. 3 months went by, me flaunting a long healthy braid while 2 of the others were back to the ponytail business; braids just didn’t want to set up their shop on their head. Another 2 months and the rest backed down making me the clear winner later tagged the one with the perfect braid till 10^th grade.

*THEN*

Phase 2:  Back at my native

What a happy moment it is when people say you have hair just like your mom, especially if you have been praying to god to gift you with hair just like you mom, since ages. And how would you describe the feeling when the same people after a year say “Girl, you have better hair than your mom ever did.” *a flutter in your heart, pride inflates your chest* Same was my case. After I decided to grow my mane for a year or 2 I got the 1^st statement and later 4 5 years my hair danced to the words of the 2^nd statement. My nani and dadi used to tie up my hair into fish tail plaits and people would garland my hair with comments like “what lovely healthy hair you have!””You have the thickest and most perfect fish plait I’ve ever seen” and “Wish I had hair like yours that I could braid and still the ends wouldn’t look like a mangled exposed T.V. wire.”

Phase 3: The misery

Pride takes you down with it one day, and so it did. The hair once so beautiful and strong and so much in volume was reduced to half of its previous glory as soon as my engineering college started reason travelling pollution and that urge of styling *regrets*. My mom always oiled and combed my hair with love and full conviction, imagine the pain when she said, “I don’t feel like touching your hair any more, chop them, they’ve lost the charm and braids they don’t…well braiding is not meant for your hair anymore.” *heart fail* 3 years I‘ve sulked and wept over my maimed dry split end prone hair but nothing, no one came to my rescue.

Phase 4: I have a dream a song to sing

Here comes the Dove Split Ends Rescue System the magical saviour of my dying hair. A wash 2 wash 3 wash, courtesy to the sample pack by Indibloggers and the bottle-tube set I had bought 2 weeks back (desperation you see), my desperation grows and grows, and lo I have a thick shiny healthy looking braid just after 3 washes the splits tarnishing my hair seem so less. O yeah I do have beautiful ends to my beautiful braid  And I knew I wasn’t dreaming when a friend of my said this to me just before my midterm wmc paper “what did you do to your hair, they look thicker and less frizzed out.”

*dancing

Paper, studies down the drain

 It’s all about my hair

The lovey Dove’y feel

Of a braid finally with beautiful ends.*

 *NOW*

P.S.: Written for Dove Split Ends Rescue System by indiblogger
all the pics are of my own..:)