Bentivegna Tia BentivegnaMs. GardnerEnglish 10, Period 226 January 2015Remote Control You have gorgeous hair, said Brenda, my hairstylist, untying the tightly wadded ponytail clasping my hair at the crown of my head and beginning to finger-comb through all of it. It is a good texture, not too thick, but there is a lot of it! I smiled and said thank you as she continued to run her fingers through each tangle until she reached the end of the strands. I almost mentioned to her how hard it is to believe that I even have the amount of hair I have now given the fact that it took me about two and a half years to grow a single curl. Oh yes, it was a blast watching my cousin, Tedi Schmidt, whos the same age as me, have flowing locks of thick, shoulder-length hair at age two while I could barely manage to grow one strand. Clearly I had hair-envy at an early age. I told her the colors that I wanted for the highlights and she began concocting different mixtures with strong smells and painting them into my hair as if it were a canvas. After she moved me towards the washing station where I lay my neck down in the crevice of the sink and watched her as she turned on the stifling hot water and let the excess dye rinse out of my hair. I looked up at her attentively and listened as she instructed me on how to maintain the color, avoid frizz, and keep my hair looking healthy. I planned on following all of her rules for haircare; however, I knew I would eventually forget or not have enough time to go through each of her steps. I could not believe how many steps there were in order to get my hair to look a certain way. There had to be fewer steps than that. I knew I never performed all of those tasks as a kid. Granted, I was not highlighting my hair as an adolescent, but I was trying to style it like I had seen in various TV shows and movies. How else would I have arrived as prompt and on time to school and other activities and still have my hair look as amazing as it did? Well, okay, maybe not everyone adored the many styles and flair I gave my hair, but I certainly loved it. From Hannah Montanas Miley Stewart and her cute brown pigtails and side ponytails, to the Wizards of Waverly Places Alex Russo and her signature barrette which clipped her front pieces of hair back, and even, as my father would call it, the Lilith ponytail. Those were only a few of the most memorable hairstyles and actresses I tried to emulate through my hair. My parents did partake in my journey of exploring various hairstyles, especially my mother, who, unfortunately, was not always on my good side when it came to doing my hair. I remember one day when I was trying, well my mom was trying, to put my hair together, UGH! You are ruining everything! Take them out! This is not right, they are way off! The right pigtail is like not even with the left one, I shouted at my mother, who clearly, did not understand the axis of symmetry on my head and where my pigtails had to be aligned. Tia, honey, they look fine! Look in the mirror- She tried to rationalize, but she knew she was not going to win this argument. I am not looking in the mirror! Redo them! I exclaimed, not wanting to be rational. Undoing, pulling, brushing, and redoing the pigtails until I gave her the Okay and seal of approval in their alignment, my mother went on her way, probably with a little less hairs of her own due to the amount of stress I just put on her. Shockingly, however, she was always patient when it came to dealing with my neurotic expectations. This patience more than likely stemmed from her placement as the baby of three older brothers, whose mother felt that the signature Dorothy Hamill bowlcut was cute, and was forced to wear for most of her early years. What a poor childhood.Several years after this phase of perfect, - in my mind - poised pigtails that represented my true personality, I grew into a new hairstyle. While this was a new look for me, it still revealed who I was as a person and my many characteristics. As I said before, my father pinned it the name, the Lilith ponytail. This referenced the high-strung television character, Lilith Sternin, from the hit 80s sitcom, Cheers. My parents simply could not wrap their heads around my reasoning for having about five to six elastic hair ties in my hair for one, single ponytail. I needed the reassurance that my ponytail was secure, obviously. I mean was that so hard to believe?In the midst of this slick, sealed, and sturdy ponytail phase, my family acquired head lice. Actually, I think I can rephrase that sentence, every member except for my bald father and I acquired head lice. Yes, my brother, sister, and mother all endured the joyful experience of head lice, while my father and I steered clear and watched the chaos entangle itself. Now I know this may not be completely true, but having slept in the same bed as my lice-infested sister before we realized she was contaminated with those awful creatures, I still managed to come out unscathed? Call me crazy, but I think my Lilith ponytail saved me in this hair mess.Until now, I finally realized that those taut, symmetrical pigtails and constricted ponytails were merely a representation of my need for constant control and anxious demeanor. One hundred thousand hairs on my head. Hundred thousand hairs. How can I ever control every single one of those hairs. It is impossible. Not only that, but I lose one hundred hairs every day. How can I learn to fathom that I will not be able to keep every strand and every piece of hair together and on my head all of the time?As I grew older, I learned that my hair was not just my hair as well, but it was my own, personal remote control. Occasionally if I arrange my hair in a certain way, it is as if I am rewinding back in time to my younger years in the pigtail stage. If I strain my hair back into a slicked ponytail, I am once again embodying my signature, Lilith ponytail.When it came to those one hundred strands of hair falling out every day, I had to learn that I had no control over that. Yes, however, in many ways my hair was my sense of control. If I have it pulled back into a ponytail, I typically have a lot on my mind. If it is down and styled a certain way, I am usually stress-free and enjoying the moment, being able to do what I love and care for my hair. I needed to realize that though my hair was my remote control, its dynamic and flow was not going to be under my control all of the time, which I guess nothing ever is in life. Sometimes you have control, and sometimes you have to let somebody else take the reigns. Sometimes you can be driving your own way and carving your own path, and sometimes you have to take a step back and put yourself cruise control. Sometimes I have to be in control to feel at peace and be myself, but sometimes I also need to let myself go and relax while someone else has the command.Now Brenda had begun going over the last few sections of hair with the flat iron as I was coming to this new realization. "Thank you again, it looks amazing," I admired my new hair in the mirror. "How much is it?" I did not have any money and began to scramble through my bag for the blank check my mother had given me ahead of time."Cut, color, style, so one hundred twenty dollars," she said while sweeping up the fallen pieces of hair on the salon floor.I filled in the check and said goodbye. As I left the salon and began looking around and truly embracing the beautiful sun and River Birch trees when I exited the complex, I saw something new. Having come to the realization that I will not have control of everything in my life all of the time, I found a new appreciation for the little things in life: the warmth of the sun, the flow of the trees, the chirps of the birds. Knowing that I wasn't in command twenty four hours a day - seven days a week gave me the sense of relaxation, at times, and the sense of a whole new me. So I sat down on a bench while waiting for my father to come pick me up and turned to my favorite book I had intended on reading in the salon but did not get the chance, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.You dont get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you.As I began to read through his heartfelt, eye-opening words, I began to see what I had just realized about myself. I do not always have a say, but when I do, I am in control.