It is quite obvious, even after arduously straightening my hair that I was born to the grueling life of a curly haired girl. All through elementary school, if I dared to run a brush through the unfortunate mass of dead skin cells that hung from my head, I ended up with a blond afro. In middle school it was a brunette afro. But one day in seventh grade, I was introduced to a sacred device called a straight iron. I watched in awe as this device transformed my curly afro into a slightly less frizzy, straight afro. With much more practice, and deplorable split ends that come from frying your hair once a day, I found that I could produce something that resembled normal hair. Not long after this amazing breakthrough, I figured out that with an army of seventeen anti-frizz products to back you up, curls can actually look almost normal. And yet, no matter how many times I straighten my hair, everyday when I get out of the shower I am dismayed to find that the dreaded curls are back and frizzier than ever. How can this be possible? I am clearly no expert in the intricate anatomy of hair, but doesnÕt it seem unfair that after practically altering the DNA of my curls each day, they never go away? IsnÕt it even more unfair that the people born with silky, straight, magnificent hair are jealous of me? IÕm the one torturing my head for hours a day here. That should be a clue that they do not want my hair. So now, with my fifteen years of wisdom, I have come up with a theory as to why my curls pop back into place every day. I must be Medusa. It makes sense, doesnÕt it? If I lost my evil snakes, I would die. So the other day I decided to test my theory. Like the geeky writer I am, I studied Medusa before actually conducting any experiments. I thought the coolest thing about her is that she can turn people to stone with her eyes. Unfortunately, as much as I stared people down all day, there were no reports of unexplained statues being found around campus. Dang. I thought it was a good theory. Well, maybe we will never find out the truth about my hair. If you read about a demon girl in the newspaper tomorrow, or watch a 60 minutes about the unexplained phenomenon that is my hair, please donÕt be shocked. At least I canÕt turn you into stone. I guess thatÕs a good reason to celebrate. I think IÕll go eat some cake for the occasion.