I’m back

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Today, I went to L’Oreal USA Headquarters so my girlfriend, Cataanda, could give me the first real haircut I’ve had since most of them fell out about a year and a half ago. I wore braids for most of that time, in order to allow it grow without the stress of daily styling. And today, I reaped the fruits of my (lack of) labor; I L-O-V-E the cut!

Cataanda is an equally amazing hairstylist, make-up artist and human being, with whom I’ve worked for about seven or eight years. She beat my face for Last Comic Standing, all my headshots and she did my hair and makeup for the last season of Exhale. I linked to her website because it’s the right thing to do, but I really don’t want to share her with y’all. Matter of fact, if I ever need an appointment and I find out one of y’all booked her, we’re fighting we fightin’. She’s the only person I trust with my hair, now. When she wasn’t available one week last summer, I made an appointment with the stylist I went to all through high school… Not only did he get scissor-happy, but he cut a chunk out of the right side of my hair–the hair I was trying so desperately to grow back. And then he and his co-worker tried to convince me that it looked good–as if my giant eyeballs couldn’t see the mirror a foot in front of me. I swear it was like that episode of “Martin” where Gina forgets to put the neutralizer in Myra’s hair, and they try to convince her she looks beautiful bald.

"You gave Myra a perm with no neutralizer???"

“You gave Myra a perm with no neutralizer???”

But, I digress.

Me and Cataanda

Me and Cataanda

Cataanda is ALL the superlatives. And she totally gave me a 5th Avenue haircut at the homegirl rate. I feel like I’m back! It may not be feminist or India Arie-ist or whatever, but I always feel good about me when my hair is pretty.

And I feel good about me today.

One good apple…

Before

Before

I usually don’t smile in hair salons. Because I hate them.

Or maybe I should say: I hate the hair-salon “process.” I’ve been to stylists who arrive dumb late for appointments. A-yo, respect my time, man. I’ve been to stylists who nickel-and-dime. The deep-conditioner application cost 15 dollars, but if you want me to wash it out, it’s gonna be 30. I’ve been to stylists who stack clients. How we ALL got an 11:00 appointment?… And as such, I have been relaxing, styling and sometimes trimming (I may need to stop trimming) my own hair since I was 15. On the rare occasions when I do need to go to a salon, I arrive with my hair relaxed, conditioned and wrapped and just ask the stylist to trim and style it. They don’t like it but it really is in everyone’s best interest, as I do not possess patience or restraint necessary to sit in a salon all day long without blacking out on somebody. “Ain’t nobody got time fo’ that.

I took new headshots today. I felt like I needed to get my hair done professionally, so I made an appointment with a stylist I recently met. I walked thru the door with a side-eye, but when I got in I saw that I was her only client. We breezed right thru the process. In and out in two hours (the roller set added a lil extra time, but I asked for that) and she did a fantastic job!

After

After

If it was always like this, maybe I would go more often.

But it isn’t. So I won’t.