Here’s the deal — ever since I first saw Angela Davis I’ve wanted an afro. I was mebbe ten years old but I was terribly fashion forward and adventurous, don’cha know. Yeah sure, I was also totes turned on by Davis’ brains, activism and strength too but...but that hair!
Diana Ross went even bigger and better. My desire for my very own mondo, colossal afro was through the roof.
At the same time, I was painfully aware of my limitations. I’ve thin hair which, as Kevin always put it, has the consistency of bunny fur. Looks great on a bunny. Me? Eh. Kevin wanted to help me realize my big afro dream so we trundled into the men’s bathroom of his dorm at 3 AM one night (figuring no one would come in and disturb our efforts — ding dong, wrong-o) and he gave me the perm to end all perms.
OOF it wasn’t pretty. So we figured, we’ve gone this far, let’s go red — couldn’t hurt. I think Bozo the Clown rocked the look better BUT it was fun.
When I first came to Boston, my hair back to it’s natural rabbit-ish state, I was staying with my pal Craig. Craig’s black. He had (still does, I imagine) beautiful hair that could, with just a wee bit of coaxing, be a tremendous ‘fro. I’m sure I suggested just this at least once to no avail — not his style. BUT if I couldn’t have this gorgeous do, I wanted my friend, my bud with fab hair, to have it. Dammit.
|Next life I get to have good hair and I'll be tall then too!|
I’m afraid I was wickedly offensive and annoying, at the very least.
Great hair now? Solange Knowles and MOST fabulously, Erykah Badu.
The next person I’ve doubtlessly pissed off is Jen. You see, she’s got this perfect figure. She could wear ANYTHING and look positively brill. Way back when we first met she had to buy a skirt to wear to her brother’s wedding. Jen never EVAH wears dresses so she asked me to come along and advise.
Poor girl didn’t understand that I was gonna pick out all the stuff that I wish I could wear if only I was built like her. Micro mini skirts! Crop tops! Halter gowns! Wrap arounds! And all in bright, bright colors too!
Yeah, poor Jen. She set me straight. I got that I wasn’t there to help her shop for Tart-Wear — that’s just not her thing.
Sigh. I MUST remember that my friends are NOT Barbie dolls. You know, I think I need a Barbie with an afro. That'd be some solace.