now, like most black women, i have an almost-physical aversion to scissors, and i also suffer from the “it doesn’t matter that my hair is breaking/wilted/bleached-within-an-inch-of-its-life i’ll still keep it’ syndrome.
so, understandably, i went into denial when my ends started getting bad.
“there’s nothing wrong with uneven ends,” i told myself.
“yes there is!” replied my little hair conscience, “they look bogus as hell.”
needless to say, i ignored my hair conscience. but a few days later when i noticed tiny lint pieces in my ends, i knew it was time.
ok, i’m not going to front, i felt cool/grown up when i trimmed. and it’s true that your hair is fuller, feels bouncier (and somehow looks shinier…) after you trim. plus, i only needed to get rid of a teeny little ball of hair.
so, i was proud of myself and immediately informed my boyfriend — who, due to his curly headedness doesn’t always understand my napp psychosis — of what i had done. and he was proud.
let this ditty be inspiration to all the scraggly-ended ladies out there. do what ya gots to do!