It was a cool brisk fall day. Light from the golden orange sun beamed through the seamless blinds. As I arose from a restless slumber, I noticed a matted, wool like substance upon the crown of my head.
It was my effing hair y’all. And it was a effing hot mess. I woke up like this. My beautiful freshly relaxed hair was now broken, burnt and bitter.
What happen you’d say? Well let’s take a moment, jump in the Delorean and journey back to the beginning of my hair story.
About two months ago, I decided after being natural for 3 years to get a relaxer. I’d missed that creamy silky high and that creamy crack was calling my name day and night. I missed my bangs and running my fingers through my hair.
So I called up my crack dealer Dr. Walgreens and said, “Can I get just a hit? No super you know, just regular will do.” and he said “of course boo, you know I got you!
Voilà! My hair was laid like silk sheets on a pimp’s bed. A few (literally four) weeks later it was time for UT’s Homecoming and for some foolish reason I thought I needed another hit. I wanted my hair to be bone straight as it was when I first relaxed (old habits die hard).
I went to my regular dealer but he raised the prices of my usual stuff. So he offered me a discount on a cheaper version, promising me the same results.
I thought, this will be l fine..I’ve used cheaper sources before I went natural and I’m only going to hit it for a few minutes, so what could go wrong?
Welp, YOUR HAIR COULD FALL THE EFF OUT! And that’s exactly what happened. As the days went by, my hair started to crumble in my hands. It was limp, lifeless, full of product and sadness.
Wrong! It was still shedding at an alarming rate. And frankly it looked a hot mess. My new growth did not get the message that my hair had been relaxed and was growing in its original curl pattern (well of course duh).
I had two options. Pay a million bucks to get a skilled stylist to give my hair life again or I could “Big Chop” for the 3rd time?
So what did I choose?
But before anyone throws me a side of #toldyousogirl or #teamnaturalbooboo, have a crock pot full of HUSH UP!
That was harsh, but it’s the truth. Comments in that very nature have always me very reluctant to share my hairstory.
Whenever someone decides to go natural or get relaxer, I notice that women begin shoot each other down and make proclamations to each other regarding which decision is the right one.
We will like/dislike, comment, post and judge on our Facebook pages and Twitter #teamnatural #teamlightskin #teamdarkskin #teamyellowgirl #teamkankelon #teamyaki #teammychurchisbetter #teamimbetterthanyou
But rarely do I see enough women put that much energy and support with things that matter like #teamhewillhityouagain #team401K #teamlearnhowtocook #teamvoteonNov4.
I had a “friend” who love to “natural hair shame” me because I wasn’t taking it seriously enough. At one point, when I guess she was fed up with the status of MY hair this “friend” deletes me from her friend list. Real Polly Petty? Over some hair? GIRL BYE!
Unless you’re footing the bill for my hair dresser, take a soccer stadium full of seats (and yes that’s whole lotta of seats…)
So today I’m #teambald. I eff up my hair and I am living with the consquences of poor hair maintenance.
But I will also be completely honest and admit some of my own truth. I really hated having to do my hair. It’s like I had relaxer amnesia. To keep a short layer cut, look at all the products I thought I needed to use:
Now let’s all say it together now. Ain’t nobody got time for *fill in the blanks.
And the way our one-income household is set up, getting my hair “did” every two weeks is not financially possible at this time.
So that’s my hairstory. My blog will go back to posting cute clothes and crazy stories about my kids.I will not be posting pics of 4C Bobby Ricky Mike Curls or teaching you how to do Bantu knots using fishing wire and some dreams. I just felt the need to share with you my thoughts about MY hair.
In two months, I might go back to that crack (with professional maintenance), I might be #teambraids or #teambald again.
At the end of the day, this HAIRSTORY is mine and your Hairstory is yours.
Instead, let’s celebrate things that matter like a new job, boo or baby.
Let’s also be mindful of what we say to each other as women, even if it seems harmless. Let’s start building each other up by #tagging words that uplift instead of tear down.
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