Anyway, these pictures should give you some sort of proof that I know what I'm talking about.
Let's start at the beginning shall we. This is a terrible copy, but this is me as a 1-year-old. Can you barely see those tight curls? Yep, this is why I have short hair people. It curls better when it's short, or when I have barely any hair in the first place. Sadly, my curls would really never be this curly again.
Now, I don't have any pictures of my elementary school years on my computer, but let me paint you a picture with words. The year is 1999. I'm in the fourth grade, and because I'm just a lowly nine-year-old, I apparently have no say in how my hair is cut or styled. One day, one of my older sisters--I won't name names, but you know who you are :) --suggested a certain style to my mother and the hair stylist, and that was the style I got. Let's fast forward to the next day on the Hillview Elementary playground, where a group of boys from my grade noticed my hair and came up with a nickname for me--Afro Queen. They followed me around at recess and sang disco songs at me. Now, my hair wasn't exactly an afro, but it had slight tendencies that way, and nevertheless, I still remember shedding a few tears that day. OK, OK, I bawled like a baby, but wasn't it enough that I already had a huge overbite, thick glasses AND curly hair.
Next, if I had it, I would show you my seventh grade picture. But again, I feel words may better describe what happened. I was waiting in line to have my picture snapped. I was wearing my favorite purple shirt, and had a sparkly head band in my hair; I was feeling pretty good about my potential picture, despite having enough metal in my mouth to build a railroad. Then a volunteer/room mom came up to me with a comb and some hair spray and said "Oh, here let me help fix your hair a little bit." Now, I had checked the mirror before this, and my hair had looked fine. A little crazy, but that's the point I was at with my curls. This woman, bless her heart, had no idea what she was getting into. The result was a bunch of flyways and a strand of hair sticking almost straight up from my head. If this wasn't bad enough, I wasn't quite ready for the photographer when he said smile (it takes me a while to get a good smile going, even to this day), so I ended up with frizzy hair and a goofy smile.
Ninth grade, where my curls started fizzling out a bit and became more like waves. This was probably the most normal school picture I had ever had. I was finally braces free and I had finally won independence when it came to styling myself for school pictures.
It was about sophomore year where I went into curly haired denial for two years. I tried to straighten my hair as much as I could those two years, even having my hair chemically straightened once. This picture is from my junior year of high school, right in the middle of those straight years. I don't really remember this picture day, except that day was around 90 degrees outside and the sweater I was wearing made me really hot and sweaty, which probably made my hair start to curl in protest.