"Remember me as a time of day"// My 'fro journey...

*Yep. That is a One Tree Hill episode, for those who are unaware that I watch inhale, and then proceed to remember the episode titles like the cool kid I am. No judgement please. Deuces!

It is truly amazing that I am excited at the prospects of dead cells sprouting from my scalp at such an alarming rate. I love it. The whole process of deciding to rid myself of hair and its baggage was NOT an India Arie 'I Am Not My Hair' type emancipation story, it was more of a...

"It's a sunny day, I have nothing to do, I really wanna know what my head shape would look like if I shaved all my (nonexistent... seeing as I had been swept away by the Rihanna-esque 'daring' cut and been hacking off bits and pieces of it bit by bit) hair off". 

And soooo.... all my hair was gone! Finished... Vanished.... And Nonexistent. Woohoo! I wishhhhh I did more with it when it was that little, like, maybe dye my hair scalp blonde? or some wacky, unreal colour for a girl of my complexion. Oh well. Now, it's growing, inch by torturous inch, and I am learning how to deal with it and love it just as it is. Of course, I want slightly longer hair than a teeny weeny 'fro, and insecurities tend to come on certain sloppy days when all you've got to show for hair is this curly mop of frizziness, whilst the rest of the world is purchasing long Mexican-Peruvian-Turkish-Indonesian-Brazilian hair. You tend to feel a bit left out. Even if you know FOR A FACT that weaves are not your forte, you wish you could rock the weave with such aplomb without excusing yourself every five minutes to have an 'itch-break' and then returning with a hairstyle that outshines Marge's blue hairdo. I know. It's a crazy world we inhabit.


Anyways. The hair is growing. And I am happy about it! As opposed to Pharmacy which is one step away from the electric chair. The course should be banned from existing.

I seem to have spoken more than necessary. Yet again. Happy Sunday folks. Remember, Jesus Loves You.

xoxo