Yarnicopia

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Open Question: Is it bad to wash your hair everyday?
Okay so i wash my hair everyday. I HAVE TO. If i don't then my hair will look soo dirty and really oily. My hair type is oily. I use a little bit of shampoo then put handfulls of conditioner cause my hair is damaged too. I also straighten and blow dry my hair everyday but i use chi silk infusion. I sometimes use deep conditioners and hair mask every other week. My hair feels soft right now,and kinda healthy (still a little damaged) So my question is,is it bad to wash your hair everyday,if you have oily hair?
Open Question: How is the beginning of my story? (READ PLEASE)?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, absorbing the happenings around me. In just thirty seconds I’d be stepping out of a black high profile limo into a jumble of flashing lights. My heels balancing on the Swede red carpet with my long, periwinkle, strapless dress trailing smoothly behind. But those camera’s wouldn’t be saying, “Talia look over here! Talia! Talia!” more like “Tera, Tera! We love you Tera! Smile!” They would be saying my mom’s name, Tera Cole. Hastily, I opened my eyes blinking back tears. Why was I here? She only brought me because Jack couldn’t come, I thought, just as the car door opened. My mom turned to me, “Smile Talia, please. For me.” She murmured in a low voice, giving a reassuring nudge. Her hairstyle was up in a bun, her deep brown hair twisted in curls. Lining her eyes was a black eyeliner and mascara, complimenting her sparkly, sapphire blue eyes that twinkled a little extra tonight. She had a dark red lipstick applied to her thin lips, matching her salmon orange dress that flowed like it was flames rising from a fire. She looked and acted the part of a movie star, but to me, she was just my mom. I nodded showing a weak smile before exiting my only safety from the flashing lights. As I slide out of the car, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach flying around with terror more than excitement. When I placed my feet on the carpet and stood from the car, my head began to spin in worry. I looked around me, spying the 20 cameras that lined the rails with fans spilling over for an autograph. The Los Angeles air was humid with a cool wind blowing at my face and the sidewalk was damp from the rain that was sprinkling on and off continuously. Ahead, was the Nokia theatre that glowed with bright blue lights through the crystal clear glass windows. The futuristic design of the building made it look sleek and divine, the perfect place for the famous. Even though the night sky was black, it was lit up with the overwhelming shine of the buildings near-by. I felt like I was in Alaska during the summer, daylight streaming down all day long. Usually you would hear the hollering of the crowd, and the shouts of the photographers, but my ears seemed to block everything out. I brushed the wrinkles from my dress, my fingers sliding over the poufy blue silk fabric that was dotted with silver shining sequins. Then I remembered to smile. I composed myself, collecting all my emotions, bad and good, and put on a blissful grin. Pacing myself, I sleekly strode over to my mom, joining her side. She put her arm on my shoulder and whispered, “Thank you!” through her pearly white teeth. I felt a sense of gratitude coming from her. She was proud of me, and that felt good. The night poured on with her signing autographs and taking pictures. Watching her new film, With a Sigh of Hope. Its about a girl who decides she wants to write a book and get it published about all the memories with her mom before her mom passes away of cancer. My mom played Liz Peterson, the mother of Paisley Peterson, the girl who wanted to write the book. It was overall a sad movie where everyone cried. Since I’m not a crier I held back my tears, but inside I was bawling. Yes, I may be a tough 14 year old on the outside, but on the inside I’m like every other teenage girl out there. I have crushes, feelings, opinions, secrets and most importantly, grudges. After the movie, my mom and I walked out of the theatre with a trail of paparazzi. Of course my mom was used to them shoving microphones in your face but I was certainly not. “What do you think about the movie? Why didn’t you cry? Are you and your mother not very close?” One young lady asked me, inferring nothing but lies. “Um yeah.” I mumbled back, hiding my eyes from the cameras. “So you are not very close… which explains why you are never seen with her, like ever.” She snorted, with a high pitch voice, once again assuming. “No,” I replied crudely coming to a halt. Looking her up and down I added, “You know nothing about my family, or me in general. So next time you try to get facts, at least get them straight.” But before I could say anything else, I was pulled into the limousine by a long tan arm. When I turned around, my mom simply just closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Tally, don’t ever let those reporters get to your head. That’s what they want, a reaction. Just like a bully.” She paused, squeezing my hand. “I should have told you earlier about them. I’m sorry, Tal.” She asserted. I squeezed her hand back. “They certainly found my weak spot,” I met her soft eyes and bit my lip before I continued, “You guys.” All she did was smile, hugging me tightly while running her fingers through my long, golden blond, hair. Finally, she whispered, “I know last year was rough for you with the divorce and living arrangements, but I never got to tell you how strong you and your brothers were. And I thank-you for that.” Im a young writer, 12 to be exact, and I have alot of flaws, I know. But if you could tell me your thoughts it would mean a lot!!! Its going to be an adventure/action type story let me tell ya! Thanks!!!!! :)