This is a photo of Bozo the Clown.
When I was 7 years old my mother and friend took us kids to see Bozo in person.
I was terrified of Bozo and wouldn’t sit in the audience. I stayed behind the curtain backstage in tears.
The reality is that when I or other women look in the mirror we can magnify what we think of our appearance into a distorted image.
Seeing this Bozo the Clown hairstyle convinces me that my hair is perfectly fine the way it is. It should cure all of us from looking in the mirror and hating our hair.
Nobody has to like our hair. Only do you like me worry what other people think of your hair?
I want to tell everyone reading my blog to love your hair even if no one else does.
When your hair is gorgeous and it’s a work of art and your crowning masterpiece no one’s fingers should go near it.
You don’t ogle a Van Gogh from 5 inches away in a museum. The same goes for hair.
A couple of years ago in here I wrote about my hair. I was born with curly hair. My natural hair is curly.
In humid or rainy weather it frizzes up and curls in unruly directions. The hair on my head doesn’t curl the same way twice in the summer.
It’s like I get 50 “hairstyles” for the cost of one haircut.
Simply by scrunching up my hair when I’m drying it (without using any product) presto I have curly hair.
Finally October is here and it’s (hopefully) goodbye to the humidity.
You can predict the weather by watching my hair. Frizzy and curly and it’s rainy. Straight and sleek and it’s sunny.
Dreadlocks–a derogatory term–are called locs today. I think locs are hair artistry at its finest.
Natural Black hair is beautiful.
A person whose hair can’t be touched has a power no one else does.
An OKCupid question asks: Would you like your hair pulled during sex?
Cupid, my hair’s too short to pull. If like me you answer No that’s a liability.
This is another “algorithm” that is biased. Like typing “images of beauty” in a search bar.
I prefer to have short hair. I don’t like the feeling of long hair against the nape of my neck. Odd yet true.
Today I go to a trendy salon where the haircut costs $65. I spring for the cost because I’m afraid of getting a bad haircut again like at the old salon.
At the end of the day loving your hair gives you power.
If you’re riding the New York City subway and your hair looks like Bozo the Clown’s no one will mess with you.
Something to think about when you’re having a bad hair day.
Left of the Dial 