I'm not sure why I always do this, but I always go to the salon on Sunday evenings. I don't know, it just seems well fitting. Sundays are great for body administration; painting of nails, plucking of brows, shaving of legs.... All are best done on a Sunday. So when I get there, I always get given the look. The it's-17:36-why-are-you-here types of looks. Well today I just asked the young fellow if he intended on closing shop, he said yes, I said okay and hopped across the street to the guy who likes generating an income. This is the hood, finding someone willing to do my hair isn't a task.
I'm sitting between two ladies having a full blown conversation. I know about the ones six month old, and the other's pending job transfer to Cradlestone. I know her boss is taking their time to move her and she's not about that life anymore. Gosh I wanna tell her to swop seats with me. Huuuu. Now they are talking taxi fares.
Kasi hey.
This other guy is dressed to kill. This can be literal, depending on your sense of fashion. He is feeling hot! Oh but I'll allow.
I'm here in slippers, and there are about three others in the same gear. Ghetto. Love it. Hate it.
A car just did that engine revving thing that guys with Golfs like. I'm sorry I don't mean to generalise. The reaction he got was exactly what he had calculated. Whistles from the gents and a few shaken heads from the mamas. The hair dresser just looked at this other girl, I think that must've been her man. Hahaha.
The lady on my left wants three kids. The other wants twins.
Anyway.
I'm probably not gonna get a turn any time soon because this girl is doing bob-cut. I'm not sure how she's going to sleep tonight and wake up with the same hairstyle tomorrow. Maybe one of you guys can drop me an email and explain. Perhaps the curls will lie dormant and get revitalised when she combs in the morning. It all looks so expensive and fancy as compared to the reason why I'm here.
I'm regretting this decision right now. My hair is dirty and I can't leave although I'm not feeling insecure right now. In fact a guy did shella me on my way here. Slippers and dandruff, and I still got a boyfriend offer. I'm telling you, kasi dudes get full marks for acceptance. Imagine if I was in a dress and heels.
Turns out the girl who's man just revved his car outside the salon is here with her mother. I think her mother knows who that guy was. And what he and her daughter have been up to. The plot thickens.
Someone just walked in. Carvella trending. Halala my guy.
Omg the guy who's meant to do my hair is asking other people who came after me what they'd like to do. My mum was right, people really do avoid doing my fro. I'm always getting thrown curve balls.
I would never pose for these salon hairstyle photo albums hey. From all angles even. No, I'm alright. But shout out to the girls who do it because the rest of us have trust issues and don't believe the hair dresser is capable of the hair style. Sometimes these pictures just prove how incapable he is and he'd be better off without. Life is complicated.
Battery low and I might need my dad to fetch me, you know, to avoid all the hollering I'll get when I leave this place with clean hair. It's almost dark now so I'm calling it a blog.
Later!
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So I saved this post for reviewing. I left the salon almost three hours later with the best hair treatment ever. It was worth the wait, and that other salon has lost me as a customer shem. Aah. Hair diaries.
Live blogging was fun. :)
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Get out your archives and play:
Pitch Black Afro, yizo lezo!
Ntsa
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