Hawaiian Silky (A Tale of Displeasure)

I really regret the timing of this post, what with "Good Hair", Tyra's "real", wet, hair, and Oprah's recent hair episode out in the world. I detest the blogger's urge to discuss and personalize every single event and make it about them, adding to cultural noise. I'm also on Black hair-talk fatigue because I went to a Black women's college, work in a majority Black environment and immerse myself in Black issues daily. I've heard this conversation from every SINGLE possible imaginable angle. So I'll spare the rhetoric and emotion and get to my point.

Nearly a month ago, I got a semi-wavy full sew-in and am in the throes of loathing it immensely. Of course this means, I'm wistfully reminiscing about the pseudo-natural twist-out I'd rocked for two years. That style shall return VERY soon but this episode taught me an important lesson about myself - It's okay to change things up, but you don't have to go to extremes or follow what other people prescribe to do things differently. I didn't like the shape of my style and was tired of the upkeep.


BUT...


A Really big but...

I let my sister and my stylist talking me into getting a full sew-in weave. I ordered 10 inches of expensive, thick, really obtrusive weaving hair, specially blended with two colors (My stylist, bless his heart, coached me on exactly what to order) over the phone. It was shipped from Miami (but I don't know the origin of it - first mistake) and arrived via FedEx to my home, a wily bunch of hair wefts bound together by a rubber band, encased in a plastic security bag.

After washing and conditioning it, my stylist braided my hair to my scalp tightly, placed a complimenting net cap over my head, and sewed most of the 10 ounces of newly-bought hair to it. Then he wet it ( the second mistake) - I looked like a Latina fresh from the shower. I was shocked, not repulsed or ecstatic, but dumbfounded.

It looked foreign and I didn't recognize myself! I ran my fingers through it, drove straight to my sister's place, let her fawn over me and went home. I called my best friend, took the shot that accompanies this post, and then the pain came. The hair on my temples and the remainder of my baby hair were pulled sooooo tight. The hair hurt to pull back. I realized I was gonna go to work the next day looking completely different. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and had a cry.

It's almost a month later and I've been wearing the weave pinned up in a chignon, with a wide head-band covering my demarcated, obviously clashing hairline. I've been afraid to call my stylist. I've whined and frightened my poor loved ones - crying, complaining, and beating my head. Oh yes, I forgot to describe the worst part - the ITCHING. My scalp itches a lot. I've never had dandruff, but I'm sure by the time this is over, the skin on my scalp will have had a chance to get flaky and crusty. Bleeech...

The caveat? I spent too much money to have it taken out immediately. The plan was to wear this for three months but the longest I can hold out is one. I'm getting it taken down next week. I'll probably go back to texturizing my hair, twisting it and playing with different looks to keep myself entertained and busy. I can't wait to get out from underneath this mop I had.

I reject the notion some natural hair enthusiasts might try to push on me - that I hate myself because I experimented with weaving. But this hairstyle just wasn't for me. Big lesson learned.

Things I'm Feeling
Bud Greenspan Films
Glee (even though I'm an adamant Fox-avoider. They're politics turn me off.)
Telling people about themselves on Twitter (I'm @rowsbelle)
Lemon water
String Cheese
Striped Oxford shirts

Remembering my high school crush
Ella Fitzgerald
Reading NYC, Milan, London, & Paris Fashion Week coverage online (free!)

Be easy, breezies!