hair-oshima

it looks like an atomic bomb exploded on top of my head. i have this huge, crazy, curly mess going on. i tried to keep it out of my face with a red bandana, but it's barely hanging on. the funny thing is that, where i live, there aren't that many black people, let alone mixed girls. so, they're unaccustomed to hair like mine that they didn't pay $65 at the hair salon for. good news for me. they have no idea that what i'm rocking now is not cute. it's just a mess of fuzzy, wild naps. i haven't combed my hair in three days.

when Siri picked me up from the airport, she looked at me and just started laughing. the best part was when this white woman passed me in the parking lot and said, "nice hair!" i smiled appreciatively and said thanks; Siri could barely contain the laughter.

later on, she marveled at my hair again, tried to dig and find my scalp, and said, "Girl, are you sure there's nothing living in there?"

that, my friend, is a fair question.