The tiny salon was packed with chairs and bags of hair surrounded each wall. I listened to the accents and could tell that most of the women were West African. That infamous “sucking of the teeth” sound and the “Char-lie” exclamation at the end of sentences just told me so.
The stylist began to part my natural hair with a comb and I politely handed her the one I brought from home. My thick mane intimidated her. I was not about to allow her to comb my coils with the tiny ass comb she held in her hand.
And then she reached for grease and I said “no” before I could even spit out a sentence.
“I don’t use grease on my scalp or hair,” I added.
I caught of glimpse of her rolling her eyes. She started to cornroll my hair and I reminded her that I didn’t want it tight. She got it right after a few corrections.
She told me my hair was too big, too thick- basically my hair was just too damn much.
My hair turned out great. I like the crochet style. I paid the inflated price and walked out. I have not been back to that salon.
A lot of stylist can do hair but only a few actually use healthy hair practices.
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~Thanks for Keeping it Kinky~