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I'm obsessed with my hair. Or so I've been told. I was blessed with wavy, curly and sometimes frizzy hair, which has worked both for and against me, depending on the decade.

Much like my unique name, my hair is part of my brand. I've always followed and emulated hip hairstyle trends - some I'm proud to have pulled off; others not so much. Let me explain.

Most people have heroes; I have hairos. That's right, my icons are those with amazing hair. Sure, if they've won the Pulitzer Prize, all the better, but they've gotta bring it when it comes to good hair. My earliest fascination was with the flowing blonde strands of Maureen McCormick, a.k.a. Marcia Brady. I brushed my own long locks 100 times each night, like her television persona claimed to, but unfortunately, developed tennis elbow in the process.

My next adolescent crush was on Farrah Fawcett's signature mane. Although brunette, I had to have that feathered hair and brought the "Charlie's Angels" edition of People Magazine to the salon to get it. Then labored each morning to blow dry each side of my unruly hair to fly back into symmetrical wings. My mom recalls a rainy day could throw me into a tween funk.

And how can I dismiss my Dorothy Hammil 'doo? An upscale bowl cut, it suited me through high school as it went swimmingly with my cheerleading uniform and gymnastics garb.

Which brings me to the '80s, a decade I simply cannot gloss over. It was my finest or worst hour - I've yet to decide. All I know is that my natural hair's time had come; I could finally let my curly hair flag fly. My college hair products were many, a collection comprised of sought-after gels and sprays, promising the highest hair and most extreme hold. I had them all. My bangs have yet to forgive me for being moussed into frozen, upward spikes for a minimum of four years.

After graduation, I caught wind of "the bob," thanks to Teri Hatcher's sophisticated style on TV's "Lois & Clark." Neat and sleek, it was a polished look for my entry-level publishing job and twentysomething weekends in the Hamptons.

But before long, it was time to embrace the First Hair Cut - that of famed "Friends" star, Jennifer Aniston. I lived in Manhattan and yearned to be the seventh "Friend," sipping designer coffee in Greenwich Village with her character, Rachel, and the gang. Though high-maintenance, "The Aniston" was a keeper throughout my young adulthood.

The mommy years were somewhat of a blur in regard to coiffing. All I wanted was a ponytail elastic to keep my hair away from spit up and other fluids associated with babies. I used maternity leave to grow out my layers, way beyond shoulder length. It was then I discovered blowouts. The thought of escaping life with a newborn and toddler for someone else to wash and style my hair was just too good to turn down. I got hooked and still am. In fact, I'm a serious salon enthusiast. My blowout career was launched with a full-on pin straight style a la Demi Moore, the post-Bruce Willis years. It was my hallmark, until one of my many go-to girls suggested volume.

"You need more movement. You know, soft waves to frame your face," Lilly said.

I converted. Now I'm all about big hair. With blowout bars cropping up on every corner, I have my pick of stylists to pin curl me into perfection. They give me a roller set the likes of which my grandmother - and her mother - would have fancied. And fancy it I do. Simply put, this movement thing rocks.

My hairo of late would be a cross between "J. Lo" and super model, Giselle. When I'm not going "Hollywood," I aim for tousled, just-rolled-out-of-bed beach waves. To get that look, I tap a fleet of stylists, my motto being: may the best blowout win. I admit it, I'm a frequent dryer.

Don't get me wrong, I'm good with my God-given waves - which come in mighty handy in humidity, convertibles and on the beach. It's just that for me, a good hair day goes a very long way.

- Aline Weiller

Aline Weiller's essays have been published on the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop blog, Brain, Child Magazine, Skirt, Mamalode, Club Mid, Better After 50 and Scary Mommy, among others. She's also the founder/CEO of the public relations firm, Wordsmith, LLC, based in Connecticut, where she lives with her husband and two sons. Aline especially enjoys weaving pop culture references into her work. Follow her on Twitter.