Eight years ago on my Birthday, I spontaneously entered a hair salon with shoulder length hair. A few hours later, I strolled out sporting less than a half inch of hair. I felt liberated. I could drive my car with the windows open and truly not care about my hair. No more hair appointments, touch ups and long hot days under the dryer. Hello to the barber shop for a quick and cheap trim.
OT my barber and Sally’s home texturizing kit was my routine for eight years.
In June, I was inspired by ShidaNatural to go all natural. Since then I’ve learned that leaving the house with hairs (quite a few) out of place won’t cause the world to stop revolving. I have yet to receive the award for the most jacked up hairstyle of the week. Women- some of us spend countless hours trying to get every strand in place and for what? To walk outside and have the wind modify our hair in a matter of minutes. I am in love with the wild yet tamed look of the big natural hair.
ShidaNatural is teaching me to appreciate my natural hair and how to maintain a healthier head of hair. I am learning how to use the best products for my hair and the importance of using the proper technique to achieve the desired style.
More importantly I am learning to appreciate my God-given natural attributes that I’ve disliked and tried to mask for most of my life. Starting with my hair. I’ve always hated it. Always wishing it was something other than what it is- darker, heavier, better texture- buying into the hype of what’s “good hair” vs. “bad hair.” In learning how to work with what I got, I am actually having fun! Every day is a surprise. Some days I adore my do. Some days I cringe, but wear a smile anyway. Other days, I share a hardy laugh with me and the mirror at 5 in the morning.
For most of my life, I’ve worn acrylic nails. Not because I couldn’t grow nails, but because I disliked my natural nails. Always hated my hands. To me they always looked ten years older than my actual age- Maybe it was the blueberry picking during my high school years. Perhaps it’s genetics. Regardless, fresh looking nails always made up for what I didn’t like about my hands. After two months of digging deep for courage, I soaked the acrylic off of my nails. I did it myself because each time I went to the nail salon, I chickened out and got a fill.
After nearly three months, I’m still acrylic free and doing my own nails. Visiting a nail salon is not an option yet because I don’t trust myself and might submit to a fresh new set. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, but I still get the urge when I encounter someone with a nice new set. Awe… it’s like a drug, but I’m holding strong.
Internalizing all of this has me thinking. Is this because I’m at the half way mark to 50? Is this just one of those phases that women my age go through? Am I a late bloomer? Have I been superficial for most of my life?
I have no idea, but I’m enjoying my new way of thinking and welcome what ever else is down the road. Surprise! Surprise!
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