Why I Wear My Hair in a Braid, and Other Important Tidbits

There are two things you need to know about me. First, I always wear my hair in a braid. Second, I'm always late. The first is intentional, and the second is not, unless of course I really feel like standing someone up, because then it is. People have asked me before why I don't wear my hair down more often, so let me inform you that three feet of hair is rather hard to manage. If you had three feet of hair, which you were convinced had a mind of its own, you would also try to control it before it became too powerful and tried to control you. It can do that, you know. Just the other day I decided to be adventurous and went out with my hair unsecured. I should have known better. My hair was plotting against me the whole time, obviously, because it decided to grab onto the front door of the very first building I tried to enter. While it might have looked at that time like I was making a respectful, sweeping bow to the door, or perhaps just whipping my hair back and forth at it in an inexplicable rage, I was actually stuck, which seemed to escape the notice of the many people shoving past me in a desperate attempt to fill their stomachs with breakfast foods. However, after a bit of making loud gibberish sounds at confused and upset passerby, and even a bit of embarrassing head thrashing, I was able to let myself loose. The hair was temporarily defeated, but its next attack could come at any time. I took the precaution of tying it in a knot, but it has a habit of escaping, and when it does, I have to watch my back. I would use the eyes in the back of my head, but my hair seems to have conspired to hang in front of them so I can't see what's behind me. It thinks it's so clever. I have often been asked after situations like this why I don't just cut it all off. No one understands. That's what the hair wants. It wants to be free of me so I can't keep it in line. If it escapes, there's no telling what it will do. Beware the braid, my friends. Beware.