I have heard my owner occasionally comment that I have a mind of my own. I am glad that she looks at me as an independent individual and is proud of my accomplishment. It has taken me years of dogged perseverance to earn that title and the disgruntled respect (the way I'd like to interpret the helpless look on her face while trying to combat me) that comes with it.Most of the days I try not to get in her way much... but then I'm not ashamed to admit that almost always, I do not give up without a fight. On all the days she braid me into a tight plait (read that as almost every day), I promise myself that I will act like a good little lamb, thereby tricking her into letting me free occasionally. And once I am sure that I am let loose, I create havoc in her generally undisturbed, non messy life. I flail around at the slightest hint of a breeze making my presence known and after all the fun and frolic, get myself to resemble a ball of yarn at the end of a kitten's play time.
On days she make the mistake of using a little extra shampoo, I rejoice...because that's the time I can dress myself up... I have tried on the Noodle head, Haystack and Electrocuted styles so far based on how far the shampoo bottle was tipped..And when the shampoo bottle is tipped a bit too much, I choose my favorite look of all seasons, The Modern Medusa look... On the best of my days, I would put Medusa to shame..much to my amusement and her displeasure. On such days, she touches me as though touching a hornet's nest and attempts the Herculean task of untangling me. This makes me lose a large number of my army and leave me anguished; I surrender promising to hit back again.
What follows these reckless episodes of mine are her lamenting tales....She calls me "Frizzy"...what a pathetic nick name!(I would have liked something like Happy...or Sassy...or Princess...Muffin would have been fine too....but then, whatever!) And that's not all, she goes on and on about how she'd cut me short as soon as an opportunity presented itself. But I know that these are empty threats...If she didn't have the heart to part with me for the last 15 years, I doubt she'd do it now...Ha!
Then comes her attempts to tame me, which ranges from applying conditioners, serums and multitude of oils to beer, honey, avocado and eggs?!? (ewww.....blech!) ... in an attempt to turn me into glossy and glamorous from wild and boorish. THIS, I look at as a gross act of injustice inflicted on the Prisoner of War, a.k.a me and I plot my revenge silently. And I get my chance when my owner decides to step out... as she preens and primps herself and inflicts me to jets of hot air, iron plates and hair rollers, in the hope of flipping the new shiny, bouncy me with a modest smile and leaving the on-lookers gasping in awe, I lay low waiting for my chance... and when it comes....I play the Dead Dog trick. That's right, I voicelessly revolt against her interference and lay limp, refusing to budge, indifferent to her pleas and prayers, until she's forced to tuck me under a hat or put me up in a bun...
Two or three days at this trick, and I know that the little shampoo bottle will come out of the cupboard and be tipped again in my favor, and then I will arise, with a voiceless battle cry, claiming my freedom again...
Right now, I am being held captive yet again after another attempt at upheaval. And here I am, the sufferer of insult, injury and injustice, waiting for my chance to freedom again. The only thing that keeps me going is the infinitesimal joy I get when I look at the haggard look on the face of my nemesis and hear her doleful sighs.
And God, and any other well meaning, kind hearted people who happen to be reading this letter, do not, I plead, do not, do not, do not fall for her conniving ways and help her in the wicked cause of taming and mastering me.
Pretty Muffinkins (that's what I choose to call myself hereupon)
Addendum: SOS from a distressed frizzy hair owner: Help!!!! Please, please Help!!!