Rebirth of the Slick: Finding Love in the Big City XXII

By on November 10, 2008 @ 9:22 am

Finding Love In The Big City

I have been reborn.

I haven’t found the time machine that takes me back to the days when things were simpler – childhood – being catered to, feeling the weight of your mother’s smile impress itself upon you like leaky faucet, consistent and at times nerve racking but ever missed when it isn’t around. We all need that leaky faucet to vent our fears and stop us from achieving our successes. It is an excuse to why we don’t pursue our dreams – putting them off till later thinking that they will always be around for us to pick up at any time.

Tonight I am a bad ass motorcycle chick – realizing one of my own child hood dreams, riding the back of a bike with a mysterious stranger – dressed in the regality of Elegua with the earnest of Obatala – as refreshing as a deep breath after drowning.

So my story starts about two weeks ago, when I decided to cut my hair off – again. You know the whole thing with women and their hair – all of the emotion, love and aggravation wrapped up in it.

Loving strokes from ex-boyfriends – gone!

Fears of not being good enough – GONE!

The bottomless ocean of accumulated sadness jarringly cut and floating calmly to the floor. So calmly that it rather amazes you to how much fragility you were carrying and how easily it can float away. . . GONE!!!

I needed a new start. So I dabbled around with a couple of new hairstyles, trying to see which one would fit me best. After rocking my hair in a fro for way too long, change was on the horizon. I tried the straight look for a couple weeks – watching my hairdresser run the hot comb through my hair, smelling the smokiness of burnt-ness, I thought twice about what I was doing as the comb came dangerously close to my ears and forehead. The result, soft, silky hair that seemed to move with the wind, light as air – awesome. . . or so I thought.

About a week or so later when it was time to wash the look out and return to my earth mother ‘fro, why did my hair begin to fall out in clumps?! I was use to losing hair as I combed it, but stringy clumps fell into my hands, into the sink and even more tumbled into the bathtub drain as I rinsed the conditioner from my hair. The funny thing is I didn’t scream like I thought I would. I finished my bath knowing that I’d been changed, that I was suddenly at an unlikely crossroads; the future and the past staring each other in the face dueling for bragging rights. At that point I really looked at myself in the mirror and my hair started talking to me:

OP’s Curls: Shit, I’ve been growing this here stuff for ten years and it hasn’t grown back. I have to ask you, what the hell are you waiting for? I’m two-toned, fried and wild, give me a break. . .

And that is exactly what I did . . . or so I thought.

I ran downstairs with the full intent of cutting it off and going with a baldy – feeling the warm air or whatever was left of summertime on my scalp and I was thwarted by gentle persuasion. Something about the extreme decision of cutting off my hair shocked my hairdresser into action and she gently lead me down a different path towards dreadlocks laughing at my lunatic like ravings and calmly applied the beeswax to my hair and it was beautiful.

Until it started to grow out.

I missed playing in my hair, the kinkiness of my soft curls sans the goopy/hard gel forming my hair into locks.


I ran to the safety of my Aunt Jemima head wrap, ran downstairs in search of my real self. Block after endless block I walked until I found a beauty shop that just felt right. And what does “feeling right” mean? Well it goes a little something like this:

Me: Hello, um I’m looking to get my hair cut.
Her: Okay, do you want it twisted too?
Me: Umm no, I want to cut it off.
Her: Okay! I see your hair is natural, you want to relax it too?
Me: Uh – no, cut. . . it. . . OFF!
Her: Are you sure?
Me: Of course I’m sure. I’m talking baldy here, gone all gone baby.

And I haven’t looked back –

Well only on the back of a motorcycle as we are cruising down Flatbush Ave at 100 miles per hour. .

Stay Tuned.

Categories: Observation | Relationships

Tags: , ,

rawdawgbuffalo November 10, 2008

no matter what u do , hair will look fine

Sue November 10, 2008

I did the same thing four years ago. Short, #3, and spiked with blue hair gel as best as I could at the time. I loved it! Now it is grown again and much healthier.

dej November 10, 2008

waitin on part 2
bold move
i likes it

Princess0889 November 10, 2008

I have conteplated doing exactly that but being that I almost cried at the though out you doing it I know I could never.

You have very large balls.

Lavenderbay November 11, 2008

MAN, you’re a good writer! My fashion look most closely resembles that of a park ranger on his day off, but I was absolutely wrapped up in your tale of a haircut!

meleah rebeccah November 11, 2008

I had a ‘biker phase’ back in my younger dating days, however, I never EVER wanted to cut my locks!

Great Job…..looking forward to more

Urban Thought November 11, 2008

I’ve witnessed these changes you’ve made over the past few months. You’ve kept us all in awe but also pleased. And that outfit you had on yesterday was doing it for a lot of us.

Just keeping on re-inventing yourself. You keep us interested, if nothing else.

Ms. Q November 16, 2008

Very cool! Women and hair – it’s some type of relationship, ain’t it? I had a “bowl cut” when I was a little kid, then shoulder length and a bit longer for teens through 20s with some BIG PERMS in there just for umm, chuckles. I’m Chinese to put it all into context.

Then to save money and time, I didn’t get haircuts all through college, just kept growing out my hair and cutting my own bangs, Cleopatra style. The hair was up in a bun most times but every so often I’d let it down and it went past my waist. One year before I graduated, I whacked it off to a bob (just past my chin) and what I really wanted was a SUPER SHORT cut.

Shortest I’d ever had it was a boycut and shaved halfway up. Inneresting. I had to wear a cap!

For over 10 years I’ve had short hair and thought I’d never grow it out again. This year April I again wanted to save some money so it grew out a bit and it looked okay and my hairdresser encouraged me to grow it out and I was getting all this “men like longer hair” advice and the men thing was never a big reason but I started to like the longer hair – I felt all feminine and sexy!  But I’ve also thought short-short hair sexy so it’s just a new attitude.

Have fun with being bald. Sounds great! Just avoid flannel sheets. I encouraged a friend to shave his head way back when (he was going bald anyway) and he said that during the winter, if he doesn’t shave his head too often, his stubble will gather lint from his sheets and he looks like a Q-Tip. Who wudda thunk it.

The Orange Phoenix November 26, 2008

Ms. Q,

You are priceless!  I will say that I am more on lint patrol than I ever was.  It is so easy to just roll out of bed and go, forgetting that you have to actually brush your hair in the morning – so you can be glamorous sans the white lint 😉

Its a shame we women attack our hair first, as defenseless as it is, it’s begging to be controlled. . .

more to come.

lavenderbay December 9, 2008

Hi, Orange Phoenix,
I was given a couple of blog awards this week, and have given you the “Kreativ Blogger” award ’cause I think your writing is fantastic. The award itself is kinda — umm — pastel, but you can see it here if you want:
Just letting you know. Keep on writing!

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