When I grew up, all the schools in the village demanded that girls cut their hair. The teachers would measure our hair and make sure it was not too long. I remember crying and begging as the scissors cut my hair. My dad told me that a girl who was in school needed to concentrate on books and that hair was a distraction  . I cut my hair all the way through primary school and middle school. Then I went to a high school that allowed long hair but no styles or braids   during class hours. Even then, still adhering to   my dad's words, I never wore my hair long. When I graduated from high school, I started growing my hair. I spent hours looking in the mirror and shaping my hair. My sister complained, wondering why I had to have two styles in a day. In college I heard the word perm  . Girls had some strong chemicals   put on their heads and made the hair look beautiful. I quickly sat in a salon   and changed my hair. I returned to the salon once every month. Even during the days when I had no money for food, I had to find money for my hair. After college, I was jobless and broke. I had to have my hair cut. At that time I saw a bald   black model. Her style shocked me and I admired her so much that I began to follow her. Therefore, there I was. I wore some large earrings and walked around like a model. And many people admired my style. At this point the journey with my hair stopped completely. I decided to have natural hair. I soon found out natural hair is the cheapest, easiest and healthiest way to wear African hair. The author thought the bald black model looked   _  .
beautiful terrifying poor ugly