Alright. I’m getting concerned. My hair has taken over and done what it wants and apparently it wants to dread itself like a Jamaican.
So now I assume people are probably whispering about whether or not I sell weed out of my house.*
Seriously, though. During the exercise, I’m playing with my hair, one of my many terrible, nervous habits, and my hand gets stuck. So I’m all, what the fuck is the problem. I only use conditioner on my hair, have used a brush maybe 4 times in my life because my fingers are just fine, thankyouverymuch, and I never use anything that requires heat on my head.
Now all that being said, I’m used to having crazy and chaotic and unruly hair. I love it. I’d hate to think of what my life would turn into if I had to put this thing called effort into getting ready in the morning.
But this, this dread nonsense is a bit much. Not only do I have ONE dread. I’m up to counting FIVE, and those are only the ones I can feel and see. There may be more.
So we’re at this amount right now.
And this is a close-up of my nappy hair.
WHICH REMINDS ME. This is a perfect example of how to use the word NAPPY.
“Shit, my hair is wicked nappy today. I have NO IDEA why it’s dreading itself. Weird.”
So anyway. I tell my coworker about my hair again and show her.
“I’m going to cut all these parts out. Let’s cut them off right now with the office scissors.” I assume she’ll love this idea, as it’ll give us a fun project for the day.
“We’re not cutting off your hair.” She looks at me like I’m losing my mind. I assumed she’d be sympathetic, as she UNDERSTANDS nappy hair. She doesn’t have nappy hair, but I have seen her with hair that on a bad day could get out of hand in the nappy nature and she is my only close African-American friend with knowledge about all things African-American and if I’m not Jamaican, I’m just turning African-American in general and SHE IS, so this is technically why I’m consulting her. Like the time I consulted her about African-American girls getting eyebrow tattoos. She was full of wisdom then. This time, however, she says,
“Just get a damned brush and brush your hair for once.”
Like that’s the motherfucking solution.
And besides, I already know the real solution.
Helloooooooooooooooooo pixie cut.
*Which I do not. Besides, that would be impossible in Germany. It would require Germans to grow something that if taken, would lead them to calm the fuck down. Doesn’t exist.