In 2015 I promised my son that I would grow my hair . . . and OMG, it really took lots of patience. We have a “no hair brushing rule” and I get seriously annoyed when my son puts a brush through his curls, so you can imagine my frustration with a head full of hair!
Anyway, my hair started growing, and the curls became longer – thicker and unmanageable. Eventually it was long enough for me to brave the local salon at the train station for some dreadlocks!
I had no idea as to what to expect. The salon was okay. The stylist was friendly as he showed me over to the wash basin. The hair wash wasn’t a relaxing scalp massage kind of wash. No. It was a “kom hier laat ek die taai kop van jou uitsort” kind of wash. Rushed, rough and painful!
Then he COMBED out ALL my curls and sprayed some product on my hair before taking to my head with a crochet needle. Tiny AND lethal!
I sat in that old chair clawing at my forehead as the pain was unbearable. Each nerve in my body begged me to walk away . . . There was no mercy, ONLY PAIN!
My son had a good laugh at my expense as he watched from a distance. Here’s some pics of my torture session!
Have you had any recent hairy dilemma’s?