Hairdresser Chronicles.

The customer is always right and the secret about this is no secret at all. The customer is right. Business depends and thrives on that. When I walk into your premises and you start telling me what I want without asking for your opinion I get infuriated. You know the type I’d turn red if I was a couple shades lighter. If I did not know what I’m looking for I wouldn’t be looking in the first place.
 My blood boils but I constantly remind myself jail is never a wonderful place or experience at that. Plus two thirds of your “friends” will not visit, even if they do, you will not be at liberty to spend all the time you’d wish to. No phones, decent meals or fresh air: and internet (God bless the internet). It’s like boarding school all over again only worse. You get my drift though? I wouldn’t risk jail for people who aren’t worth it. So someof the times when I’m super mad, I’ve learnt to smile and no, do not be deceived, I’m not anywhere close to being amused, maybe by the level of stupidity, but not because there’s a chance of the person being funny. Most of the times if I have a choice I walk away, its way better than causing a scene you agree. Some of these situations do not need reactions anymore so my other option is ignoring. However once in a while I while I speak my mind.

All this is about my hair. Women and their hair. In as much as we have that one go to hairdresser who gets you and can deal with your madness, there’s always a thing or two they don’t get so you will ask around who does what best. I love to braid because it needs the least amount of work and I can style them however whenever. Every once in a while I’ve had someone do a good job but when you go back niggas don’t have a clue what you are talking about. So I switch from time to time. You know the problem with that? They say better the devil you know but I got to take my chances. This time they flopped, ass up.

My sister referred me to a certain lady who made her hair about three years ago.  This should have been my cue, too bad I didn’t ask. The woman asked me if my sister had delivered and my sisters’ daughter is three years old now. Of course she had delivered, it’s been three years or so? Or are there people who are heavy for more than 9 months? I showed her pictures of my adorbs (adorable) niece. She is like “oh amekuwa mkubwa” and I’m there thinking to myself should she be crawling in diapers after all this time? Right there people, that is the reason I am not a fan of small talk.

Well, being the perfectionist that I am, I showed them pictures of exactly what I wanted to look like at the end. First, her assistants were over there trying to convince me to do what they know and I was there like “I don’t want what you know and what you always make, I have made myself clear now do me a favor and tell me if you can do this or not!!” but in the most courteous way possible. After a little bit of back and forth I got overwhelmed and wanted to walk, then they calmed down and agreed to my style.

Usually, rather what they know is that they empty close to 15 packs of braids onto your head, I don’t roll like that and I told them. I don’t want to leave the place leaning back like I’m literally carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I sat there patiently being braided. Somewhere in the middle they say they are out of braids. My brain stops. I’m not certain how this is going to end but I choose to keep calm. There’s nothing much I can do but add another packet.

Long story short in the end I don’t look anything close to what I wanted. I feel like crying because my whole head hurts from the pulling and the acres of my forehead have been highlighted with what looks like a cactus plantation. I was running late for something else so I couldn’t undo them. Then to add salt to injury, my whole other issue was the length of the braids. She went on and chopped them. Give me a moment I need to wail!!

When you ask God to give you a sign, He does, most of the time. You will not hear a voice from above nor will a dove sit on your head, it is there right before your eyes. It is clear to me that He wants me to tie turbans, embrace bad hair days or chop it off altogether. I have chosen to listen. Before I do, anyone who knows some obedient hairdresser who knows how to listen to their client and make the best box braids please halla at a sister. I am done with the shady ones.  Now excuse me as I go kill some puppies and walk on needles.

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