Meet My Mohawks

When women wander through times of trouble, transition, or trauma, we wield one weapon against the angst: hair. The complete control hair harbors provides peace for the frazzled female.
Death of dog: dye it dark. Start of school: Straighten it smooth. Betrayal by boyfriend: buzz it bald. The list is lengthy.
My moment of melancholy made me crave a curly coif. After an alteration to my limp and lifeless locks I discovered a disturbing dilemma. Miniature mohawks meander through my mane (four 'fros roam free, but a couple aren't "camera comfortable").
Sad side-effects, but I've mastered mohawk management. My method? Spray it sticky and smooth it slick.