i was excited and nervous to start this journey. i knew there was no real option for me to turn back without shaving my hair off and starting all over if i wasn’t satisfied. mum had stretched out my bundled up curls till it was down to the middle of my back. i didn’t believe how long my hair actually was.
shampoo. rinse. conditioner. rinse. hooded dryer. chair.
i knew some of the ends were dead and was expecting a trim, but i knew better. trim means i feel the need to chop off most of your hair because i believe it is the healthy thing to do. the hairdresser blow dried my hair straight since i would be starting my locs with two-strand twists. with coiling i would have to come there every single week for a retwist and i didn’t have that kind of time. two-strand twists allowed for longer stretches before a retwist.
before i had a chance to look at how long my hair was straight, i heard her start whacking away at my hair. i hate this part so much. the scissors. my hair’s mortal enemy.
i was told not to get it wet for three weeks so that the twists wouldn’t unravel. i know i don’t have that problem in general, but i decided to follow the doctor’s orders. i researched ways to keep my scalp clean and somewhat itch-free. a mixture of clary sage, rosemary, and lavender, mixed with a light carrier oil.
i will be honest, for me, i felt like a boy. i felt ugly after she finished twisting my hair. the middle of the back to armpit length chop she had made on my hair had been reduced further to just below my earlobe. there was no way to make this look more stylish i thought or to make myself feel pretty. but i am determined to see it for what it is right now.