Can you see me? I’m writing this column with my head wrapped in a towel. My scalp is sore and I keep finding small beads of black glue on the floor. I only hope that I haven’t pulled out so much of my hair that there will be bald spots when I remove this towel.
If you haven’t guessed by now, I will tell you… I tried weave.
I don’t know if I’m lazy or cheap or some combination of both, but I don’t like going to the beauty salon. I have tried it more than a few times and hate that I have to spend all day and all my money to get a style that most people agree I do better. So for the longest time now I have box-permed, cut and styled my own hair.
I have reached “a certain age” where women secretly sweat at night and our hair no longer holds curls. So being the cosmetologic genius that I am, I decided that I could solve that problem by doing what I see so many sisters do — get me some weave. Only I, unlike most other sisters, would do it myself.
So, on Saturday afternoon, off to the beauty supply store I went. Got me two bags of straight, black, 10-inch weave and a bottle of hair glue and hurried home to beautify myself. I parted and measured and cut my first layer of hair only to find that my glue was white — for white scalp/blond hair, and the hair texture was nothing like mine.
Back to the hair store I went. Came back with black glue and two new bags of “yacky” black hair that was a much better match to my own coarse hair. And so I transformed myself into something of a Rapunzel! I was able to glue the 10-inch tresses to my head and it looked really good. A bit of a trim and a curling iron later, and I was ready for the world. My husband and son cautiously liked it.
I wore my new hair to church on Sunday, worried that someone could see my tracks. My husband assured me that my tracks were well concealed and that I was beautiful. I got several compliments. Most folks just seemed to quietly notice. I also noticed that my scalp was a bit itchy. It seemed to itch most in the areas where I used a lot of glue.
Monday brought a bit more itchy. Tuesday, a little more. By Wednesday my scalp was in full-fledge rebellion. It demanded freedom and I agreed to give it. Now, how do you take it OUT!!? You have to soak your scalp with oil and wait for the glue to release. It did… in some places. In others it held fast. So you pull and tug and scratch and your eyes fill with tears of pain as you pull out the last tracks of hair along with a good deal of your own.
Finally, you have to wash out the oil and the rest of the glue and here I am! Head sore but wiser. My own hair will do.
As I write this tonight, I am reminded of and see new meaning in the old proverb, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” Lesson learned. Never again.
…but every woman knows that beauty has its price, and the other day I saw a sister wearing a bad pair of black stilettos. I might wanna try that.
