Curls

There’s something about curls.

When I had hair, I had them, in droves. A big, long Jew-fro of a mane. My mother had them too. But these curls – tight, corkscrew ringlets aren’t what I mean.

What I mean are the usually artificial curls that often grace the lower third of women’s long hair – not so much curls as enhanced waves, twists that indicate not a natural endowment but rather, a little work that has gone into bringing some life into straighter hair.

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Why is it that this bit of artifice can do so much to attract my attention? Particularly when artifice, generally – in the form of make-up, dye, coloring, even sexy clothing – is generally so irrelevant, or worse, to me?

A woman who has put effort into inserting some excitement in her hair communicates a certain combination of enthusiasm, playfulness, and yes, sexuality, to me. I can’t say why this is, only that it is.

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