Two weeks ago, on a whim, I decided to perm my hair. It’s been seven years since I straightened my hair.
Before you hit me over the head with a book, please let me explain. I’ve been extremely frustrated with my hair in this summer Texas heat. It’s been brutal. A couple of Sundays ago, my kinky-haired model friend, Zion, and I decided to go shopping for wigs and ponytails at the local wig shop. The experience was unbearable. The hair was cheap and the customer service was bad. Zion and I looked at each other in disgust over the whole situation. Why is it so hard for a kinky girl to get some decent hair in this town?
Frustration sometimes leads to desperation. Zion and I decided that at that very moment we were not going to think twice about it. We were going to take the plunge and perm our hair. We knew that we didn’t want our hair too straight—just more manageable. We also wanted to maintain our kinkiness. We had to find the best salon in town that could make this happen. I told her that I was not going to do it unless she did it and she said that she was not going to do it unless I did it. So we both took a chance and did it! We made an appointment that day for the transformation. The sisters’ pact was sealed.
The salon service was fabulous. I had a great hand massage while sipping on herbal tea. I hadn’t been “hair” pampered like that in so long that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then reality began to set in. Less than five minutes after my stylist started to put the perm on my head, my ears began to tingle and then it started burning all over. I began to have flashbacks of when I was a little girl and my mom would perm my hair. I would jump around frantically saying, “Please mommy, take it out! It burns!”
