That's it I want my natural hair back. It wasn't until a friend sent me the link of this blog (Le Coil) with all these very beautiful au natural black girls, that I began aching with jealousy and regret...kissing my teeth - like it could sprout little black coils from my roots. If you're not in the know (that's most of the non black world) a black girls hair is not naturally dead straight. That's right, it's curly in degrees, from very loose to very tight and if you do not see this type of hair sprouting from her roots then it is one of the following; chemically straightened, straightened, a weave, bonded, braided, or a wig. *shock, horror* - The people at work will wonder what they've been touching and the girls will hate me for drawing even more attention. desole

It's funny, I'm wishing for the same little coils the little childish imps at school taunted the thicked haired for. They would call  it 'peppergrain' like they were dirty insects scavenging the corners of your hairline. lol. Or you had 'Picky hair'. I understand peppergrain (on account of black circles of hair like balls of peppercorn or grain) but I never quite understood why your hair could be termed 'picky'....did you want to pick it?

...It's probably the most powerful and attention seeking look I've had. I've been thinking about it *I also think La Roux, Agyness Deyne, Grace Jones, David Bowie, Prince, Tilda Swinton and despite not trying, they all exude some sort of coolness without expecting to. This of course is when I question my choice, they help to remind me it is fitting....I'm hoping my exuding is doing the same (fingers crossed). It seems to me the ultimate principle of androgyny is Samsonite, in other words

I finally wake up at 12:49 Saturday afternoon with rodents roaming inside me. That's right, one in my head scratching away at my skull and the other deep in my stomach pushing whatever alcohol was left right into my chest. I was chanting my 'I'll never drink again' song, though it seems to dissolve away with my next drink (on Sunday). Like clockwork I then think someone spiked my drink because it's beyond comprehension how two glasses and one half would cause such devastation. I dread to think that my aging has a place in the equation and finally put it down to drinking only water, green tea and lemon & Ginger tea for the last year (alcoholic, fizzy and juice drinks on a very irregular basis) no fibs. Therefore it must be the alcohol irritating my pure body (excuse me while I fool myself). So anyway, I look over on my camera and I'm still shocked at my own appearance, glad for the change nonetheless... You see, Friday night was my introduction of my Grace Jones-esque hair to the world at night, it was shocked but generally receptive. Now you can understand why wherever I am, the words Grace and Jones most certainly appear. It might even explain my alcoholic over indulgence! 

Me
Me