I decided to do my BC when I realized that managing the two textures during wash days was beginning to become very frustrating for me and I was confident in my decision, I need not mention the excitement that came with it. I sat down in the chair with my boyfriend behind me holding a pair of Goody hair scissors. He was about to get rid of those straight boring ends that had been with me for just about 6 months since my last natural hair break down; the day the fairy knots laughed at my lack of moisturizing and sealing knowledge. I was happy, because this time I would be going into my natural journey with a wealth of knowledge to not let the past mistakes be my future mistakes to come. But half way through my chop I was crying and I really could not pin point why. Was it joy? Was it anger at going back to extremely short hair? or was it just the fear of what havoc my significant other may be wreaking on my hair? Maybe it was a mixture of both and up to this day I am still not sure. But it was just a little over a month ago and even if I never figure out the reasons why, I will be perfectly fine not knowing.
After the deed was done and irreversible, I walked myself to the mirror and with red, watery eyes, looked at what was now my crowning glory. It was a short, fuzzy TWA and I was not sure how I felt apart from relieved. Relieved at the fact that my somewhat short struggle with the curly and the straight was now over and I could give my natural hair all the loving it needed without being distracted by another texture.
For the next few days I would stare in the mirror continuously, trying to see something else but a shapely cross dresser with breast implants. I began wearing eyeliner and mascara around the house, just to ensure that whenever I looked in the mirror I would see remnants of the girl I was before. I did not look like a boy in any way and according to others I was beautiful with my cut. But at the time I could not believe those words and saw nothing but the cross dresser in the Mirror. Eventually that began to change and I became the bold and the beautiful; wearing my TWA out with accessories and feeling sooo pretty..until some pharmacy cashier I knew who was also a natural asked me in patois ' What the hell is wrong with you?" and that confidence died. After that, I wore a hat or a scarf wrap whenever I went on the road just so that no one could see it and by the third week or so I was in yarn braids. The girl in the mirror was back. I felt pretty because the braids allowed me to have a "normal" length of "hair" on my head and no one was talking down to my hair.
Now that the braids are out, I am okay. I see me; Chadonnae Blackburne, in the mirror, Big Chop and all. It hardly looks any different or any longer than when I did it last month. It has grown mind you, but the inch really doesn't make it that much longer. What has changed is my attitude. I am awesome with my hair as it is. Whether they think so or not...and honestly? Since my attitude has changed, they seem to think I am awesome too. But the roller coaster still remains.
I know I am attractive with my haircut, I know I don't look like a boy. But now my insecurity lies with shrinkage. I don't always like the fact that my hair is 4 inches but shrinks to one. I don't always like the fact that my hair is now heading toward my shoulders but appears to barely reach my neck. My roller coaster still goes on. I will just embrace the journey... because with all this..I still love my natural hair.
<3 LATERZ <3
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