So, you’ve dumped the creamy crack, big chopped and you just might be seeing what your hair looks like when it grows freely out of your head. Only brunettes who have sworn to be blond have experienced anything close to what black women have to go through getting perms every six weeks.
What a racket, by the way. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in the style chair and some hairdresser was trying to convince me of the benefits of risking oozing scabs from chemical burns, limpness only someone on Viagra can understand, and deciding whether to pay the electric bill or gel down my roots. fuggetaboutit.
But I’ve been somewhat of a coward, or at least a bit flim-flammy, because I’ve been wearing my hair flat ironed, which is more temporary, but still alters the origins of my curl pattern. But paying $55 every two weeks and loosing six to seven hours a month of my life that the good Lord will never give me back was enough for me to at least entertain a wash-and-go.
With afros comes a certain level of responsibility. I am a obliged to not look like a hot arse mess. (Thank wholly geezus for Shea Moisture).
So I got to thinking about ‘fros and fashion. I mean basically, we have to dress around our hair. And I must admit I feel a bit more bohemian when I wear my true hair, so I’ve adopted a 1960’s and 1970’s-inspired acid-trip look:
I’m also feeling free to wear bold colors on my face and on my body. With big, ole fancy jewelry.
Scarves are also making a come back in my closet.
Is it just me, because I feel like my hair is taking over my closet.