I have lost my hair. And I mean All of it. At first It was traumatizing because my hair is not just my crowning glory – I am unabashedly in love with my hair! Some have hot legs, great breasts, strong arms… I have had fabulous hair. The kind of hair that made people stop me in the streets and ask what Remy number I was wearing. I would tell them it was real. They would rake their fingers through it to feel for tracks. I would smile at them and say “I told you… I get it from my mama.”
But now, it is gone. How ? From serious over-processing and colouring – so it started breaking. From the root, I might add. I looked so horrible that one Saturday evening, I staged an intervention. Alone in my bathroom with my mirror as the only witness and a pair of scissors as the enforcer, I got to work. In ten minutes, the floor was a carpet of brown wispy strands and I looked like a porcupine. I was sad, but strangely, not devastated. I guess it was because I realized that it was not just about hair. It was about different things going on in my life.
Things that I love more than my hair are changing, shifting, disappearing… but if my hair is any indication of the future, then I am hopeful. I am seeing new growth. It is stronger, thicker and richer than what I had before. I treat it differently too. I no longer use the harsh perming creams that I used to marinate my hair in. I have switched to texturizing which leaves a gentler impression on my tresses.
It is short and fresh. It does not draw stares or comments like it used to. It is quiet around here, but I have come to terms with that. It is the quality not the quantity. Of course the length is gone and I can’t even hold a pony tail. Well, unless I pull out the comb, the brush, pins, black gel, structuring gel, Stay-So-fro spray, then polish it with Sulphur 8 and press it down with a scarf. The final product is laughable, but it has taught me a HUGE lesson in humility and after 30 years, I have finally let go of my ridiculous attachment to my hair. Not to mention everything else in my life that is susceptible to split ends and breakage. I have God to thank for that. Now tell me, what is your hair story. Remember, it is not about hair at all.