So yesterday on Essence.com, I read an article on different natural hairstyles and decided it was time to look for some new inspiration on what to do with my ever-growing mane. I’m getting tired of twists, my afro doesn’t look anything like Badu’s and on top of all that, my hair is either too short to do the cute wash and shake or too long to just wash and go.
After spending an inexcusable amount of time looking for hair products and accessories, I came across some information that had me amped to get home and try some things. I found my Denham brush I bought years ago and started working on my head. After about an hour of prep, I put on my scarf and went to sleep.
This morning, I was like a kid on the way to Cedar Point. I woke up at 5:30 so I would have enough time to get my ‘do right. I went in the bathroom, took my braids down and…. almost cried. I have no idea what I did wrong, but my hair didn’t look remotely close to the cute picture I saw online yesterday. Not. Even. A little bit. I started panicking because we needed to leave the house in an hour and I wasn’t even dressed, let alone polished enough to go to work. My anxiety rose. I grabbed the Denham and began brushing, but even that didn’t feel the same as yesterday. I went from looking like a crack addict to Frederick Douglas in five minutes. All I needed was the part on the side. Now I had brushed out hair with absolutely no shape OR curl. A bunch of fluffiness masked under the worst comb back ever known to man. I could feel the tears coming to my eyes because I couldn’t get my hair cute. It just wasn’t working.
All this time, Rod is being encouraging and trying to make me feel better because my crown was a wreck and affecting my whole vibe. I stood staring in the mirror for like two straight minutes looking at my hair, thinking that it betrayed me and wasn’t my friend anymore. I had a quick idea and just as I was about to put the plan into action…
“Why don’t you just put a headband on it like you always do when you wear it like that?”
I’m not sure what it was about that combination of words that turned my anxiety to hostility, but it was something about wearing a headband, which I adamantly did not want to do, that made me feel lightweight belligerent. I kept trying to make my Frederick Douglas look better or convince myself I had the courage to wear it to work, but it wasn’t working and in the end I snatched up a scarf and angrily tied my hair. I was so irritated with myself that I couldn’t even talk which, of course, made for a silent commute to work. About one block from the job, I realized that I was angry with myself for not being able to feel comfortable with the hairstyle I initially created. I had a style in the beginning, even if it didn’t look like the photo, but I got sidetracked by what someone else would think when I got to work and from that thought on, I was styling for other people instead of myself. I got out the car and went to CVS to buy a new set of bands and took the scarf headband off. While I couldn’t get the braid out look I started with, I did get a slightly modified, blown out look that I could live with for the rest of the day. In the end, my hair is my friend again and we’re getting along. Next time, I’ll play with my hair on the weekend.