Hair Troubles

My hair has a hard time behaving. It all started when I was about 12 years old and in one day went from having stick straight hair to coarse, frizzy hair. A lot of people gave me advice on how to better manage my hair; "try hot rollers" (not so good in the 8th grade, a little better now), "if you would just put gel in your hair it would look like mine and then maybe you could have a boyfriend, too" (I'm not kidding--someone really said this).
I finally learned some tricks to manage my unruly locks and make the natural curl look somewhat presentable, when wouldn't you know it, I have a baby and went from unruly curly hair to straight-in-some-sections-and-curly-in-others. I have to say that this has been a little easier to manage, but more hair troubles ensued.
We moved to Nevada, and as I have mentioned in previous posts, I did not love it. I blame Nevada almost completely for the grey hairs that popped out when I was merely 25. To cover up these grey hairs, my sister-in-laws and I decided to try a box of hair color with "just a little red" (requested by Ben). That little bit of red turned my hair completely BURGUNDY. It took 7 treatments within a month to get it back to semi-normal. Needless to say, my hair was fried. In our new ward I met a lady who told me that she would love to do my hair. I looked at her own frizzy mullet, and since I am a firm believer that your hair will in some way resemble your hairdresser's, Bambii did not get the job.
I have kind of trucked along over the years and have discovered some real tricks that help. I can't live without: a) good shampoo and conditioner, b) my S-Factor smoothing lusterizer, and c) my round brush and blowdryer. I have also learned that it is good to give my hair off days, but my exercise schedule and the sweat that comes with it, make this part of my regimine a little tricky.
One of the only pleasures that comes with my hair is that it LOVES to be played with. I am putty in the hands of whoever runs their fingers through my hair. I will let my kids stay up as late as they want as long as they are playing with my hair. So, on Christmas night, we were watching Wall-E and I was in my hair-being-played-with catatonic state, when all of a sudden something was terribly wrong. My usually tough scalp was being pulled at in a very strange and uncomfortable way. There were strange clicking sounds..."What are you doing to me, Maya?!?" I reach up and grab the cuticle scissors that came in my manicure set from Santa out of her little hand.

Will there ever be peace in my hair's life?