Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!

The American ideal of beauty is completely unlike me: tall, skinny, large rack, no butt, long, straight blonde hair. As you are smart enough to imagine, I am short, rounded, small-busted, curly-headed gal with enough junk in the trunk to make a rapper weep for mama. Which might explain why I spend very little time watching Style Network or spending big bucks on Glamour, Cosmo, Elle, and Vogue.

As a curly, I have lived my entire life surrounded by straights. I am an outcast in a straight-centric world. As a kid, I romped around the house with a bath towel draped over my head so I could feel like Marcia Brady (the fact that Marcia didn't have turquoise hair with gold-embroidered trim wasn't an issue at six). So when ceramic straightening irons arrived and got cheap enough, I bought one to see how the other side lives. Let's just say the iron lives in the drawer most of the time. I'm too impatient for long beauty and fashion rituals. I'm a half-hour-out-the-door kind of gal, and that includes makeup and sometimes a shower. Thirty minutes of coiffure every morning will never be in my cards. And once I found the Bible--Lorraine Massey and Deborah Chiel's Curly Girl--I haven't had an issue with my curls since.

Yesterday, someone I work with told my husband that he needed to buy me a ceramic iron, since anyone with curly hair would naturally want it straight. She's a curly, but she fights her hair tooth and nail. She blows. She sprays. She pulls. She flat-irons. And the results aren't as fabulous as she imagines. Anyone whose hair recalls the one french fry charp that's been left in the bottom of the basket for about three rounds of fries (think crispy, dark, and in no condition to be seen) is no person to listen to when it comes to hair. Especially curly hair. But to be fair--or mean, actually--I got out my ceramic iron and straightened it.

Know what? People noticed that it was different, but no one raved about how it looked. Told you I'm a curly. I'm just glad I got smart enough to embrace my curl-hood and get over it.