I’m thinking about cutting my hair!

To cut or not to cut - the very predictable french roll and me with no makeup

It’s now down to my waist. (If I flat iron it, it’s down to my butt!).   It’s fun and great and all, but, I’m just wearing it in a pony tail or french roll for the most of the time.  I’m thinking about doing long layers.  We’ll see.

What pushed me over the edge and into getting SisterLocks in the first place.

As I stated, I had been researching SisterLocks for 2+ years before I took the plunge. I had seen the infamous Essence article on SisterLocks and called them immediately but unfortunately there was no one in Atlanta who knew the process. So I waited.

I had already grown out of any chemicals that were in my hair years back and had a good 6+ inches of ‘Virgin’ hair. I was having fun braiding, twisting, weaving, pressing, my hair every two weeks. Well, while going thru the ‘new hairstyle every two weeks’ routine I started noticing my hair thinning so I was somewhat back on the hunt for something healthier to do with my hair (yet still going thru the unhealthy processes).

So, I decide to change it up and go to one of the more popular natural hair care salons in Atlanta at the time. I called them and came in for a ‘consultation’ which ended up basically being a perusal through black hair magazines (most of which I already owned, so what was the point) to choose a style (wth?!?) I was disappointed to say the least, and to top it all off, they wanted to charge an arm and a leg AND a kidney for a style that would last less than 10 days. Needless to say I did not give them my business. So, the search continued. Well, I was referred to someone else, by someone else, who supposedly did hair as well, so I made an appointment with her. Here’s where the story gets thick. <--more-->

I walk into the home that is so filled with cultural artifacts that you can’t walk safely through the place to a back room for the consultation. She proceedes to pull out one of those tri-fold bolster back chairs that fold out into a twin ‘bed’ from WMT. However, the cover was ripped and falling off so she had to manually push it together to keep it from completely separating. Further more, the thing was covered with hair. I’m sure it was probably premium grade Kanekalon but it was stil unsetteling. She covered it up with another blanket and asked me to sit down.

The book of previously completed styles was pulled out and I was told to make a choice. I did. She looked at my head and said ‘ok, lets shampoo’. And now we arrive to the Camels nose.

She took me over to her kitchen sink.

It was filled with dirty dishes.

She moves them from one side of the double sink to the other, gives the sink a quick rinse, and proceeds to stick my head in the sink and shampoo away. I’m starting to think ‘humm, this isn’t quite feeling right’.

And now we make it down the camels neck, round the first hump and rest securely in the valley as we watch the hay fill the baskets on either side of where we now reside.

She rinses my hair and proceeds to say, “all the towels are in the wash so I’ll have to use these” as she pulls paper towels off the roll and wraps my head with the Bounty.

the final straw falls and ‘thump’ goes the camel on the ground.

This was my ‘light bulb’ moment.

I knew that God Almighty was trying to tell me something. The experience was almost surreal as I felt the ‘papermache’ wrapped around my temples move as I raised my eyebrows to get a look at my acoster. At this exact moment I was ready to leave the flighty world of traditional african-american hair care behind and embark on something of more permanance and cultural weight.

My next post, the light at the end of the marcel barrel.