beneath all this dirt is a precious stone
a jewel to be crafted by experience
polished with wisdom
and made to shine in the light
somehow
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
world's worst black girl does pin-curl (badly)
"Ever girl should know how to fix her goddamn hair..."
But I don't.
I typically opt to let the stylists at Bubbles Hair Salon, trusted homegirls, and sometimes a small group of Seniors at the school where I work, fix my mop. I'm not too sure why the hands that I was born with, lack the 'magic touch' when it comes to styling my own hair but excel when it comes to other things like, shelf-reading, typing, texting, and pulling brand new books from bookstore/library shelves.
Last month I'd visited Bubbles to get my hair washed and styled in order to attend my school's prom (as a chaperone). My typical hairstyle is curls via flat-iron. Sammi, my hairstyle goddess, did a bomb-azz job, as she always does--but the real task is upkeep. After hours of monitoring well-dressed teenagers dance, cry, take pictures, and mistake me for a fellow student, my curls and me head home to the mirror.
"Just follow the curl..."
That's what they tell me when they see I'm clearly daunted by the idea of pin-curling my own hair. I stand in front of the mirror and set to work, dividing my curls into sections and trying to follow the directions to ensure that they're safely fastened by my hair pins. On and on I go until all of my hair is pinned up into what, in my view, could been seen as an interesting-looking hair situation. With bonnet in place, I hope under the blanket and drift off to sleep.
The morning after...
After dragging myself out of my bed to get washed up and church ready, I pull off my bonnet and loose my hair from the pins. And what do I get? Weird ringlets that look little to nothing like the practiced works of art my girls can do. DRAT!!!
Back to the drawing board...or the hairstylist.
But I don't.
I typically opt to let the stylists at Bubbles Hair Salon, trusted homegirls, and sometimes a small group of Seniors at the school where I work, fix my mop. I'm not too sure why the hands that I was born with, lack the 'magic touch' when it comes to styling my own hair but excel when it comes to other things like, shelf-reading, typing, texting, and pulling brand new books from bookstore/library shelves.
Last month I'd visited Bubbles to get my hair washed and styled in order to attend my school's prom (as a chaperone). My typical hairstyle is curls via flat-iron. Sammi, my hairstyle goddess, did a bomb-azz job, as she always does--but the real task is upkeep. After hours of monitoring well-dressed teenagers dance, cry, take pictures, and mistake me for a fellow student, my curls and me head home to the mirror.
"Just follow the curl..."
That's what they tell me when they see I'm clearly daunted by the idea of pin-curling my own hair. I stand in front of the mirror and set to work, dividing my curls into sections and trying to follow the directions to ensure that they're safely fastened by my hair pins. On and on I go until all of my hair is pinned up into what, in my view, could been seen as an interesting-looking hair situation. With bonnet in place, I hope under the blanket and drift off to sleep.
The morning after...
After dragging myself out of my bed to get washed up and church ready, I pull off my bonnet and loose my hair from the pins. And what do I get? Weird ringlets that look little to nothing like the practiced works of art my girls can do. DRAT!!!
Back to the drawing board...or the hairstylist.
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