Living it to the Fullest

I'm talking about my hair. It is damn thick, brown (with a [small] grey patch on the one side) and fluffy. It's down past my ears now, sticking erratically out of the sides, like a profile of Einstein in the wind. It's kinda afro, but I kinda like that. "It looks Amish" as my father commented. I am big hair, but I'm coming to terms with big hair. Embracing it. Celebrating it's full body. Sportin' tha dew. When the cement dust and shredded paint and errant caulking is caked on, my waves lap it up like a hungry puppy and become gunky. In the shower I purge it of the day's rustic history, shake it clean and bring new life to roots. I part it in the middle, but it ends up curling in all directions. It's like a meandering river, made up of dead telomeres.
This is my hair description.

Here ya go ~c and friends. This is your low-key, not-too-serious, narzisistic, indulgent post. Now rock, paper, scissor, to see who comments first.