Sponsored by www.linkedin.com/in/jimdascenzo/ Ps 147 Glorify the LORD, O Jerusalem; praise your God, O Zion. For he has strengthened the bars of your gates; he has blessed your children within you. He has granted peace in your borders; with the best of wheat he fills you. He sends forth his command to the earth; swiftly runs his word! He has proclaimed his word to Jacob, his statutes and his ordinances to Israel. He has not done thus for any other nation; his ordinances he has not made known to them. Mt 4:23 Jesus proclaimed the Gospel of the Kingdom and cured every disease among the people.
I have curly hair.
Okay, not Shirley-Temple-adorable curly; not ultra-chic curly like Keri Russell (circa "Felicity"); not just curly enough it launched a "Friends" phenomenon (Jennifer Aniston's "The Rachel"), and certainly not so-messy-it's-fabulous curly like Sarah Jessica Parker in her "Sex and the City" heyday.
It's wiry. It's unruly. It's coarse and thick and untamed.
Fine; it's a big, black, and often tangled hot mess.
Alright, whatever. It's a it'd-be-gray-if-not-for-Clairol, big, black, and often tangled hot mess. Are you happy now? 'Cause I sorta am.
What I mean is, sure, I'd love long, soft, straight locks fit for a Kardashian.
Yes, I'd like it if I could get my fingers through my mane without forcibly ripping off a hangnail.
Of course I'd love hair that actually moves in a breeze...or a tornado. Or that doesn't swell up to the circumference of an overstuffed pizza when there's the slightest hint of humidity in the air.
But I can either spend my days worrying about how crazy my mop top is and listening to those who say I'm in need of a mandatory makeover...
Or I can be comfy in my own mane and thankful it still covers my head -- which has a roof over it, and most importantly, a circle of family and friends in and around it who love me no matter how bad a hair day I'm having, Capisce? #Perspective #WorryLess #SmileMore