Hair

I think all 4 of my regular readers are my friends on Facebook or Instagram.  So, it's not quite news to you that I started my locs back in March.

For those who aren't my friend on any social networks: I STARTED MY LOCS ON MARCH 21, 2013!

With any type of transitioning with hair, there is a phase when you are looking a hot mess.  I have reached that stage, in between my retwists.  But you know what...

I love it!

And I've actually posted pics of it.  

Yikes!

This is a lot coming from someone who wasn't always satisfied with her hair.  It wasn't long enough...it wasn't thick enough...it wasn't enough.  My lil sis and I have different fathers; so naturally, her genetic makeup is different than mine.  She has long, thick, curly hair past her shoulders...while I was blessed (or cursed) with soft hair that barely came to my shoulder.  Hearing that a friend of the family basically said her hair was prettier than mine just...hurt.

It wasn't until I got to college and started wearing my hair down that I noticed that I, too, had length (to the shoulder!) thanks to that good ole wrap.  And because of this lengh I wasn't used to, I tried to hold on to it for dear life.  I graduated from college and found a scissor happy beautician I'd go to every two weeks.  Imagine how irritated I'd be when I say I need my ends clipped and get out the chair with hair so short, I can barely wrap it.  This continued while getting a relaxer and as I became natural.

After one last "clip ends" session, I stopped going to get my hair pressed and rocked my curls.  Length wasn't important anymore, but it was definitely growing.  I was actually close to cutting my hair and having a teeny weeny afro.  Weird.  But I decided against it.

Now here I am, just letting my hair to do its own thing.  And my grey strands (Thanks, Dad!) are outcheah flourishing.

But I love it.

Now if I can just find the right remedy for my dry scalp...

K to the...

*sigh*

People have been crossing the line lately when it comes to my relationship. I mean, putting their nose all up in my business when I didn't ask. And this morning, I got even more irritated.

If I'm on wikipedia reading about a celebrity and their wedding picture is showing in their biography...that doesn't mean I'm thinking about marriage.

If I'm googling Usher's tattoos, tryna get a closer look at them...that doesn't mean I'm looking at pics of my boyfriend.
**He doesn't even look like Usher. And why would I google photos of my boyfriend...at work?**

I'm currently searching for an apt because I refuse to renew my lease in Baby Stateway Gardens...that doesn't mean that we are moving in together.

If we spend a splendiferous weekend together...that doesn't mean I'm, now, engaged. Excuse me if my great-grandmother's ring (which doesn't look sheeit like an engagement ring) fits better on my left hand's ring finger.

I don't know if he goes through this insinuating shullbit that I go through, but it seems like I do, on a weekly basis! I'm tired of it. It's like maugs are reaching!

Well, ya arms are too short to box with God...or something like that.

I'm extremely happy, and I don't feel I have to constantly tell everyone that. The ones I'm close to know how I feel about him; he knows how I feel about him. He and those people are the only ones that matter.

So, the moral of the story this blogpost?

MIND YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!

Worry about YOUR relationships...or lack of.

Use that button at the upper right hand corner of your phone labeled "Fall Back,"* Jabroni!

K to the...

*Borrowed :-)