No Mo' Beady Beads

I was cleaning out an old box & found the above. This hot comb has to be 40 years old! It's the same comb Muda used on my hair for as long as I can remember & my cousins before me. Notice the disappearing handle .

When I was younger, my hair was a lot longer & a whole hellava lot thicker than it is now (y'all have seen the pics). My mother had good hair, so she never really learned to do my hair. Even when she tried, bless her heart, it was always a disaster. Thank God for Muda!

I spent many Saturday afternoons sitting in front of a hot stove, I'm talking hours upon hours, getting my beady beads fried and I hated it! I couldn't even go out to play. I had to stay inside because Muda didn't want me sweating out my fresh "do" before church on Sunday.

She was a prissy one & it was all about appearances with her. If you weren't "together" you couldn't go with her & nobody was missing Morning Service....nobody but Papa, but that's another blog for another day.

To make matters worse, I'm very, very tender-headed. Muda had to wash & dry my hair in about 8 sections. There was no other way. I cried when she washed. I cried when she dried it & I cried some mo' when she fried it! I still flinch when I comb my own hair, so I rarely let others put their hands in my head.

Because of the texture of my hair, I got my 1st relaxer at age 13. Me & Muda couldn't take it no mo'! I guess India.Arie wasn't the only one, huh? Unlike India, I wasn't a source of laughter & it worked in my favor. It made my "do" so much more manageable.

Now I know you natural, stop trying to look like the white man folks are rolling ya eyes & such, but I have to do what's best for me.  Some of the natural styles are simply fabulous and look great on most, but right now, they just aren't for me.

I have a lot of history wit' dat dere hot comb. I think I'll keep it....ya know, for sentimental reasons.