And so it is Easter Sunday. I am not in Church and I am not having a lie in. Where am I ? The hairdressers – this is a long over due visit and with the up and coming nuptials – I thought I had better sort out my grey hairs and wild roots.
The last time I presented myself at the hairdressers was just before Christmas in December. I am not quite sure why I have not been back but this visit has been long overdue. I have made my way to Afrotherapy in Edmonton and I now have a shiny sleek head of hair which makes me look a bit more groomed and a bit less wild. The best bit about going to the hairdressers is having my head washed – I am sure the stylist today did a bit of a head massage. It was just amazing. I would pay to have my head washed every week if I could have that.
It is funny. When I was a school girl walking to school with my very very short afro (looking more like a little school boy than girl) one of my daydreams was to have shoulder length black swishing hair. It was an intense desire and one that I thought would never be realised. Now 28 years later, it is as I wished, but it seems the price is thinner hair and a hairline that has seen better days. This is in fact only the third time in my life that my hair has been relaxed. My hairstyle was afro until the age of 18 and then my mother braided my hair for the first time just before I was headed off to university. However my father did not like this and out came the braids and the afro was reinstated. So I started my first few months at university with a little afro. I cannot remember what changed but I remember at some point I found myself in the kitchen with the hot comb and left with straight black shiny and greasy hair. Through my university days I altered between hot combed hair, corn rows and braids. The braiding continued for years with occasional years out where I left my afro out but tamed in a tight pony tail. Other times I tried experimenting with my afro with twist outs. All very interesting – but frustrated my sisters and mothers and good female friends because I never quite seemed groomed enough. Even when I had my braids I never really new how to style them.
So now at 39 – am I any the wiser? Do heads turn when I walk done the street? No and no. But it’s not a problem for me because I am not sure that I care too much for that. Now of course I have to care because of my big day but it has also occurred to me that perhaps I should care more. I am famed in my family for being the person that does not care too much about appearance – apart from when I am at work – I think that perhaps that I took a certain about strange pride in that quirkiness. However of late – now that I am fast approaching 40 – I do not think that I can take that attitude any more. I know of course, that there are bigger problems in the world, but in my own little world I should probably make the best of what I have been blessed. I should be a good steward to that which grows out out of my head.