New ‘Do
My mom has this thing where she doesn’t like her hair when it’s brand new. It’s counter-intuitive, but she prefers her style when it’s just beyond fresh (as i’m iz. sorry.). I remember specifically when she and my father were planning their vow renewal ceremony (it was on a beach. he sang to her. they’re as gross and cute as they sound) and she mentioned that she wanted to schedule her two strand twist at least a week before the event.

I never understood this until recently, when I started getting weaves  in order to grow out my perm (this is not a secret. to everyone who’s said “You cut your hair!,” or “You dyed your hair!” … I reserve my illest side eye-smirk for you). There really is something to be said for the hair settling down after a few days of getting to know it’s new owner. The first night I trotted out my newest ‘do, I was celebrating a dear friend’s impending wedding at a bridal shower. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized- I looked like Scarecrow a la Wiz (see pic). I still loved the bouncy curls, but as we walked down Polk Street, I was clearly Easin’ on Down the Road.

After a few nights on the town, my tresses calmed a bit. I stopped pulling fortunes out of my head, and bid goodbye to Diana Ross’s Old Ass Stephanie Mills. At this point I was channeling something closer to Raggedy Ann, If Ragged Ann had started making friends with bartenders and dating a dashiki wearing dude name Theo. I was OK with this.

After two weeks, things had all but settled. My hair was my new spirit animal. It had reached a level I’d always wanted to attain. Idolized in a Jeezy song. I was rocking Curly Fries. 
Watch out.


Stay Fly!


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