For my whole life I have always measured my beauty on my hair. When I was a child I wanted long, straight, beautiful "white" hair- which is a tall order considering I have curly kinky hair by nature. So the better part of my childhood was spent in a salon chair, with a straightening comb burning my hair and ears...lol. When I was 15, my grandmother sent me to the hair dresser with what she thought was my mothers blessing to get me a perm...LOL...My mother had no idea and when I came home she was so mad at both of us but I did not care GIRLS...MY HAIR WAS SOOOOO STRAIGHT AND I WAS HOOKED EVER SINCE then TO THE CREAMY CRACK. As the boys LOVED IT TOO And the compliments never stopped coming about how pretty I WAS AND HOW BEAUTIFUL MY LOCKS WERE.... It was a falsehood as it was not my hair it was limp and fine no life in it at all. I killed my hair when I was 14. Im a murderer...LMBO
And then there was my braid phase, and although braids are easy for day to day living- literally wash and wear- having to sit in a salon chair for 8 hours while synthetic hair is fastened to my head and the resulting migraine, is not for the faint of heart; neither is the $350 price tag.
After years of braids and hair loss, I had the loveliest WEAVES ever; they were beautiful. But because the hair gods love to tease me, it did not last long. Somewhere along the line, my hair started to break, and my once beautiful hair became a broken, tangles mess; and when the hair was gone, so was my confidence. I realize how foolish it is to allow something as simple as hair to dictate how I feel about myself, but since I was young I have always craved "good hair"; and taken drastic measures to achieve it- why else would I put relaxer ie. lye in my hair.?
One day I just decided to do it and cut it all off; the thought running through my mind being " what would I be without my hair?" And that thought stayed with me for weeks. Why do I feel the need to be defined by hair? I am a mother, friend, and daughter; I am creative, witty, stylish and happy. None of which are measured by the strands of waste sprouting from my head.
I am TAHIRA-PJ-4; I am not my hair.
I know this because I cut it all off!!
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