I’M MY OWN BEAUTICIAN
"Who did your hair?"
"How do you have the patience for all of that?"
"My homegirl can do your hair, let me put you on."
Like most women, I've had my fair share of bad hair days, ugly hair stages, and terrible beauticians. And THAT my friends, is why I choose to do my own hair. I mean, who knows what you want better than you? Yeah, you might end up looking like the Great Value version of the girl who's hair tutorial you were following on YouTube, but at least you're not broke AND looking like trash. That's the worst.
For a short time, I actually entertained the idea of going to hair school. I was like, "You know what? I do my own hair all the time. I would love to make money by making people feel beautiful" and the shallow part of me was like, "If I get a job in a unisex shop, I can see sexy dudes all day!" Why am I like this? Ya'll, I thought that I had really thought of a master plan. Goodbye childcare, hello hair care. I mean, I even went as far as looking up schools and how much I would need for books. But then, I got some sense... What if I mess up somebody's hair and they wanna fight me? What if they don't wanna pay me and then I have to choke them? What if I fall in love with one of the barbers in my shop and then he cheats on me and then I have to fight him and make a scene at work and we both lose our jobs and then I'm poor, homeless and sad? I mean, it's just a lot. So, I opted out and chose to just be my own beautician.
The black girl hair struggle is real. It doesn't matter if you have relaxed or natural hair. First you have to find a stylist you trust, you have to find a stylist that will not only slay the style but keep your hair healthy, you GOT to make sure they know how to lay down them edges, then, you gotta go home and "sleep cute" and after ALL of that, you got to worry about if it's going to be "acceptable" in your workplace. Now, ain't that some sh**?
I don't want or need all of that stress so I tend to take matters into my own hands for a few reasons. I'll give you 2 short horror stories as to why I have trust issues:
Story #1 - "So You Just Gone Play Me Like That?" - The year was 2010. The month was June. 1 day before my 21st birthday. I had an appointment to get my hair done in Chicago because I would be traveling back home to St. Louis to celebrate. I get to the shop, my stylist isn't there. I called her, she says she's stuck in traffic. 1.5 hours go by, she's still not there. I get a call from her saying she isn't coming. I walked home in the rain and had to make a last minute appointment with someone in St. Louis.
Story #2 - "Oh No Baby, What Is You Doing?" - I was stylist hopping in Chicago. I used the internet as my search engine to call around to some shops. This one had good reviews and a bomb atmosphere. Over the phone, I informed the young lady that I was an African American woman with natural hair and asked her if she was familiar with my texture. Listen, I don't play about my hair and don't have time to sugar coat, okay? She seemed confident so I made the appointment. I left the shop that day with a fro in my roots and straight hair on the ends. She was NOT familiar with my texture.
Look y'all, the moral of the story is, I got a hair appointment today and I'm hella nervous. But I like to be pampered just as much as the next woman. This black girl hair struggle is not for the faint at heart. Especially if you're natural. I'm just hoping I don’t need too much of a trim and come out looking like Eve when she was a Ruff Ryder.
Would ya'll dudes still slide in my DM's if I went bald? ....I'm tryna see something.
Wish me luck!
-BRIT