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After I graduated from my high school, I finally got a chance to take good care of my hair. I could wash and dry it at any time I wanted. The first thing I did with my pocket money was to grab it and walk in a salon shop where I had long wanted to go. I still remembered the feeling when I leisurely sat in the barber chair, skimming the hairstyle magazine to choose my favorite style. Taking care of my hair and getting a new beautiful hairstyle always was the best way for me to relax. Gradually, taking care of my hair also becomes a part of my life routine and makes me who I am today.

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High school was a difficult time in China. Every student buried their nose in the books in order to achieve good grades and get a place in their own dream university. It was difficult to take care of girls’ long hair when we were in high school, because it wasted a lot of our time on washing and combing the long hair under such a competitive environment. Besides, we didn’t have an outlet in our dormitory room. The only one we had was at the end of the hallway, so it was inconvenient to use the hair drier. Most of my classmates cut their long hair off in order to save time. I still insisted on keeping my long hair, but I also had to pay for my “stubbornness.” I was always the first one to run out of the classroom when the class bell rang, because I had to get back to my dorm as soon as possible to wash and dry my hair. If I didn’t do that, I had to wait in the long line for using the only outlet in the floor to dry my hair. Though it took extra time and energy to take care of my hair, I still felt happy, and it was rewarding, because I could keep the thing that I cherished, which was an important comfort for me in a such monotonous and tiring time.

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Back in my childhood, hair was a special connection between my parents and me. I was too young to tie my own hair up, but I still wanted to have different hairstyles every day, so my mom became my private hairstylist. It was really hurt when my long hair tangled together. But to have a nice hairstyle, I still bore the pain, even when my mom pulled my hair accidentally when she was working on it. That was the only moment that I was willing to stay in one place quietly for hours. Though I couldn’t do anything about my own hair, when my dad was at home, I would excitedly take out my colorful hair rings to help him to get his hair down. I put my barrettes and hair rings in order according to their colors and styles. I would try those accessories individually to find out the one that suited him best. My dad sat on the chair without complaining and sometimes gave me advice that which color he preferred.

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Hair, is always a distinctive identity symbol for me. It has played an important role in different stages in my life.