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Throughout my life, I've always had a companion by my side, through thick and thin, through the good and the bad, forever growing and changing as I have. I am referring to none other then my hair, and everyone values their hair differently, and no two beings' hair is the same, nor will their hair go through the same changes. Isn't hair just a human body feature? Hair is something far more than a body feature: it is a depiction of fashion sense, your identity, ethnicity, gender, personality, the time period you are living in, and far more. Whether 100 years ago or 100 years from now, your hair will forever remain important in defining who you are. Throughout the ever so common changes you experience, your hair will transform as you do, thus it is a constant reminder of who you are. Ranging all the way back to the days gel was a sign of indecency and haircuts were received in an immigrant's basement, the vision of my hair produced 1000 words. During my childhood, my mother exclusively selected my hairstyle. This signified my inability to make decisions on my own, and my disregard for my appearance at the time. The styles often ranged from the mushroom cut to the buzz, and sometimes even my mom's idea of good looking. The conversation at the barbershop would almost always start with the barber saying "what will it be today" then before I had a chance to open my mouth my mom shot back saying " the usual." After I hade finished receiving my hair cut it was short, uneven, unattractive, amateur, asymmetrical, and nothing like how it was shown in the magazines at the shop. I lacked any remote sense of fashion from age four to ten, as my horrid hair was equivalent to my terrible "swag." I remember coming home one day to a bunch of supposedly new clothes, only to discover they were hand me downs. The decency of my hair went hand and hand with my previous behavior and interest in grades, labeling me as a goody two shoes. I lacked interest in my appearance and originality, however my interests at the time were mainly based around studying hard in order to achieve above average grades. With such a large focus on my grades, my idea of fun was spending countless hours on the latest video games. These often ranged from halo, to GTA, and anything else available at the local Rogers Video. Nonetheless, despite the absence of pride in regards to who I was once, accurate judgments could be established merely by observing my poorly cut hair. In more recent years, I found myself drawing upon an unpredictable ally, gel, in order to style and to shape my hair, so it would help shape me. From the ages 12-15, I became more fashionably aware, so I adapted the latest styles such as the "blowout." Everyday I woke up to perform actions alien to me in prior years: as I now showered then styled my hair into a blow out with the use of gel, and now I decided upon which outfit I would wear. It seemed like I had been spending countless hours each day doing my hair. After applying gel, my hair had looked if I injected it with steroids, being rough, hard, jet black, and spiky. Now, I had been sporting the same hairstyle as a vast majority of the South Asian teenage population. Why was I getting this haircut if everyone else was? Maybe it was a sense of belonging, but I can never be certain. Comparing who had the most original appealing hair had transformed into who had the best blow out, faux hawk, show hawk, hair design, or rat tail among fellow South Asians. These styles became so popular in our area that when I once walked in to the neighborhood barber shop blow out had its own pricing on the board. Unique and original haircuts were now rare. It was like everyone decided to get black and white stripes, now we had looked like identical zebras trying to look cool with out any originality. With the change in my hair came a change in my personality and behavior. I was now capable of making decisions for myself, had a greater interest in fashion, and became a troublemaker. I had now been dressing like rap artists such as 50 cent, with pants around my ankles and t-shirts that could have been mistaken as skirts. Despite the extremely common hair, the blow out illustrated a similar identity among all those receiving and maintaining the haircut. After my prior two stages of my hair, I possessed a thought that may have possibly sprouted into the greatest memory of my hair, I soon followed up with his dream, and ultimately transformed my hair into what it is today: the afro. The afro was unlike any other experience relating to my hair. Friends, strangers, teachers, police officers, and nearly everyone I encountered were shocked when they observed my hair. One common remark about my afro was that I resembled a religious figure named Sai Babba, who also sported the afro. Over 10 people had said, "You look like Sai Babba" with my response being "I've heard that before." Originality was no longer an issue with the arrival of the afro. Unlike the times of my blowout no one else had hair remotely similar to mine. In fact most spectators had never seen such a spectacle, and I was now bombarded with compliments. One particular event was when I visited my barbershop after nine months of growing my hair. The barber saw my afro and said "Next time you come I'm going to have to open both doors just so your don't get stuck because of your afro." Also, I now demonstrated a new level of care for my hair. There was never a moment when I didn't have my new pick in my hand, constantly styling and perfecting my hair. The afro seemed to be a new friend to me, I had it back, and because of its puffiness and volume, it most certainly had mine. It changed my life for the better, as I was now more confident, spent less time doing my hair, happier with how I looked, and was always the center of attention. It helped me in ways a human being could not, and for this I am forever grateful for my latest friend, the Afro. This drastic change has also resulted in many other drastic changes. I now get into much more trouble, and I am easier to identify. I believe the current stage of my often-changing hairstyle helps to heavily illustrate hair being an essential feature in describing who you are. Whether it was my ancient mushroom cut days, recent rock hard explosive blow out days, or current puffy giant afro stage, my hair has never failed to say as much about me as my name does. Through the liters of shampoo, water fall of showers, bottles of gel, and various combs, my hair has been trimmed, grown, gelled, permed, washed, and dried as it will continue to metamorphose until the day it's gone. From the day of my birth to the day I die my hair will always be with me, like a life long imaginary friend who isn't really imaginary. As the time passes, our view on the latest style of hair will be forever changing, but how the style you chose helps to represent you shall remain identical. Everyone has their own story to tell, with their own stages, memories, and their own personal value for their hair, but with 7 billion different stories one main idea is conveyed. Hair has adapted from primitive need for survival into something much more. If you fail to understand the importance of hair, take a moment and imagine a world where everyone was bald.
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Introduction
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Body Paragraph
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Conclusion
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Overall Essay
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My hair essay
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My Hair Essay

Words: 1329    Pages: 5    Paragraphs: 5    Sentences: 61    Read Time: 04:49
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              Throughout my life, I've always had a companion by my side, through thick and thin, through the good and the bad, forever growing and changing as I have. I am referring to none other then my hair, and everyone values their hair differently, and no two beings' hair is the same, nor will their hair go through the same changes. Isn't hair just a human body feature? Hair is something far more than a body feature: it is a depiction of fashion sense, your identity, ethnicity, gender, personality, the time period you are living in, and far more. Whether 100 years ago or 100 years from now, your hair will forever remain important in defining who you are. Throughout the ever so common changes you experience, your hair will transform as you do, thus it is a constant reminder of who you are.
             
             
              Ranging all the way back to the days gel was a sign of indecency and haircuts were received in an immigrant's basement, the vision of my hair produced 1000 words. During my childhood, my mother exclusively selected my hairstyle. This signified my inability to make decisions on my own, and my disregard for my appearance at the time. The styles often ranged from the mushroom cut to the buzz, and sometimes even my mom's idea of good looking. The conversation at the barbershop would almost always start with the barber saying "what will it be today" then before I had a chance to open my mouth my mom shot back saying " the usual. " After I hade finished receiving my hair cut it was short, uneven, unattractive, amateur, asymmetrical, and nothing like how it was shown in the magazines at the shop. I lacked any remote sense of fashion from age four to ten, as my horrid hair was equivalent to my terrible "swag. " I remember coming home one day to a bunch of supposedly new clothes, only to discover they were hand me downs. The decency of my hair went hand and hand with my previous behavior and interest in grades, labeling me as a goody two shoes. I lacked interest in my appearance and originality, however my interests at the time were mainly based around studying hard in order to achieve above average grades. With such a large focus on my grades, my idea of fun was spending countless hours on the latest video games. These often ranged from halo, to GTA, and anything else available at the local Rogers Video. Nonetheless, despite the absence of pride in regards to who I was once, accurate judgments could be established merely by observing my poorly cut hair.
             
              In more recent years, I found myself drawing upon an unpredictable ally, gel, in order to style and to shape my hair, so it would help shape me. From the ages 12-15, I became more fashionably aware, so I adapted the latest styles such as the "blowout. " Everyday I woke up to perform actions alien to me in prior years: as I now showered then styled my hair into a blow out with the use of gel, and now I decided upon which outfit I would wear. It seemed like I had been spending countless hours each day doing my hair. After applying gel, my hair had looked if I injected it with steroids, being rough, hard, jet black, and spiky. Now, I had been sporting the same hairstyle as a vast majority of the South Asian teenage population. Why was I getting this haircut if everyone else was? Maybe it was a sense of belonging, but I can never be certain. Comparing who had the most original appealing hair had transformed into who had the best blow out, faux hawk, show hawk, hair design, or rat tail among fellow South Asians. These styles became so popular in our area that when I once walked in to the neighborhood barber shop blow out had its own pricing on the board. Unique and original haircuts were now rare. It was like everyone decided to get black and white stripes, now we had looked like identical zebras trying to look cool with out any originality. With the change in my hair came a change in my personality and behavior. I was now capable of making decisions for myself, had a greater interest in fashion, and became a troublemaker. I had now been dressing like rap artists such as 50 cent, with pants around my ankles and t-shirts that could have been mistaken as skirts. Despite the extremely common hair, the blow out illustrated a similar identity among all those receiving and maintaining the haircut.
             
              After my prior two stages of my hair, I possessed a thought that may have possibly sprouted into the greatest memory of my hair, I soon followed up with his dream, and ultimately transformed my hair into what it is today: the afro. The afro was unlike any other experience relating to my hair. Friends, strangers, teachers, police officers, and nearly everyone I encountered were shocked when they observed my hair. One common remark about my afro was that I resembled a religious figure named Sai Babba, who also sported the afro. Over 10 people had said, "You look like Sai Babba" with my response being "I've heard that before. " Originality was no longer an issue with the arrival of the afro. Unlike the times of my blowout no one else had hair remotely similar to mine. In fact most spectators had never seen such a spectacle, and I was now bombarded with compliments. One particular event was when I visited my barbershop after nine months of growing my hair. The barber saw my afro and said "Next time you come I'm going to have to open both doors just so your don't get stuck because of your afro. " Also, I now demonstrated a new level of care for my hair. There was never a moment when I didn't have my new pick in my hand, constantly styling and perfecting my hair. The afro seemed to be a new friend to me, I had it back, and because of its puffiness and volume, it most certainly had mine. It changed my life for the better, as I was now more confident, spent less time doing my hair, happier with how I looked, and was always the center of attention. It helped me in ways a human being could not, and for this I am forever grateful for my latest friend, the Afro. This drastic change has also resulted in many other drastic changes. I now get into much more trouble, and I am easier to identify. I believe the current stage of my often-changing hairstyle helps to heavily illustrate hair being an essential feature in describing who you are.
             
              Whether it was my ancient mushroom cut days, recent rock hard explosive blow out days, or current puffy giant afro stage, my hair has never failed to say as much about me as my name does. Through the liters of shampoo, water fall of showers, bottles of gel, and various combs, my hair has been trimmed, grown, gelled, permed, washed, and dried as it will continue to metamorphose until the day it's gone. From the day of my birth to the day I die my hair will always be with me, like a life long imaginary friend who isn't really imaginary. As the time passes, our view on the latest style of hair will be forever changing, but how the style you chose helps to represent you shall remain identical. Everyone has their own story to tell, with their own stages, memories, and their own personal value for their hair, but with 7 billion different stories one main idea is conveyed. Hair has adapted from primitive need for survival into something much more. If you fail to understand the importance of hair, take a moment and imagine a world where everyone was bald.
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