I am on a ROLL today. I’ve updated like 67 times in 20 minutes. Woo!
It seems like I may be jumping on the bandwagon a bit, but I’ve been having this thought. It’s just a tiny thought, right back there in the back of my mind right underneath my ponytail, but it’s there. And I’m not all for certain why. Because I don’t REALLY wanna act on it. And I’m a little ashamed to speak it aloud for fear of retribution. But…
I’m thinking of getting a perm again.
Shh! Stop yelling! Just LISTEN, k?
I know, I know, my hair has been natural for almost 6 years now, and its “good hair” and it’s curly and it’s soft and I don’t “need” a perm. I got all that. You would not IMAGINE the looks of horror I get from people when I tell them I’m playing with the idea of a perm again.
“WHAT?!?! Girl if I had “good hair” like you, I’d never do anything to it.”
Bah! Lets not even talk about how much the term “good hair’ bothers the hell out of me, assuming “good” just means curly or maybe it’s just “good” cuz I’m “mixed” or whatever you black folks are calling it nowadays (cuz seriously I’m considering ceeding from the Negroe Union if yall keep calling it “good hair” or continue using any variation of the phrases “mixed”, “exotic”, or “you got Indian in your family” or is Puerto Rican the ethnic group du jour?).
But really folks, I’ve been giving it some thought. It just seems like it was so much easier to manage. Doing my hair now is such an ordeal if I want it straight. And when I wear it curly, it doesn’t always look good after a couple days. And if I go to a club or work out or if there’s even 1 drop of moisture in the air, it’s a wrap for my style. And that would be ok if I lived in, say, Toronto, but seeing as how I don’t, I got nothing. NOTHING.
Maybe it’s just cuz I’m growing it out. Maybe I’m just getting restless. But I hate to even THINK about the fact that if I go running (which I need to do) or dancing (which I need to do) I’ll have this whole pile of chocolate colored crazy above my ears to contend with.
So… I dunno. Feel free to bash me so I can cuss you out or gimme some styling or product tips or something before I get my shit fried, dyed, and laid to the side.
*editor’s note: TOTALLY kidding about that last sentence. Even when I did have a perm, I was not about that hot ghetto messiness