Monday, July 16, 2007
"My" Decision to Go Natural--My Journey Thus Far
I have been sporting a Natural for three years now. I have tried to wear a natural before, but at the time I lived in a highly humid climate, and since I did not want to do TBC, I was forced to style two completely different types of hair--the old relaxed part, which looks a mess when it needs to be retouched, and the natural, which was just curlier than I knew possible. So needless to say, after maybe six months without a retouch, I went back to my beautician (I'm old school, and she works at the "beauty shop," not the "hair salon") and had her get the bucket of creamy crack that brought so much order to my life. I was me again. Me, with silky, bone straight hair that had to be controlled, managed, tamed. A few years later, however, I was applying my relaxer at home. But this time, it did not take. At all. I washed out the product, and the result was closer to slightly less curly curls than it was to straight hair. I was devestated. I was newly married and my husband and I had just moved to a new state, so I didn't know anyone, and certain didn't know where to go to have my hair professionally relaxed. After doing a little research, I realized how good I had it in that humid climate. I could get a relaxer, deep conditioner and trim for $55. Little did I know that relaxers are at a premium in other parts of the country, including my new one, where the prices of the service START at $75. And I don't care how long your hair actually is, when you go to a beautician, she is going to tell you, "oh your hair is long. Yours will be more than $75." Great.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Boots at the Airport
Occasionally when stories are told they are embellished for effect. They may even be reminiscent of the TV movies of late, "based on a true story" or the ever popular attention grabbing L&O phrase, "ripped from the headlines". But this is an actual true story. I will recount this exactly as it happened.
My husband and I were traveling home for the Christmas holiday last year. Last year, by the way, was 2006. That will be significant shortly. We arrived at the airport three hours early, still having to stand in line for about 30 minutes to check our luggage, then another 45 minutes winding through the security check point line. It was one of those lines that goes back and forth, so you end us seeing people over and over again, perfect for people watching along the way. We watched the spoiled little girl with her doll, her purse, her boots, her bag, and her mommy. We saw the group of college kids, clearly on their first flight away from the watchful eye of mom and dad. And each time he passed us in line, we turned our backs to the man with extreme body odor; it wasn't really musty, just a weird smell that made you frown and say, "Mm-m, what's that?" As we got closer and closer to the front, we were no longer entertained by these people in the line who were from the latest TV reality show, "America's Got Talent". (Notice the lack of actual talent of the contestants/travelers.) Now, here is where my story seems veer from the path of truth on to tall tale lane. We arrived at the front of the line, where one man was the only person ahead of us. We checked him out too, seeing what he would have to endure to get through the check point. Folks, I kid you not. this man donned a denim jacket with metal snaps, t-shirts, jeans. OK sir, lose the jacket, I thought. I wonder why people wait till they get to the very front of the line to remove and conceal all their metal trinkets, watches, firearms, and the ever-threatening Dasani bottles. Get your stuff out, people! Anyway, this man had on a pair of black leather steel-toe boots. Not those cutesy ankle boots--the shaft of these boots was up to his shin. From behind, except for the seam on the back, they looked to be made from one continuous piece of leather, but alas, it was many pieces. He turned to the side to "open" them, and open them he did. First, he unsnapped them from the top. OK, I thought, step in, snap on. Simple airport attire boot. That was still more than my slip on Skechers, but to each his own. I was mistaken. After the snap, he unhooked the buckle. Hm, that's dramatic, I thought. But I still gave him the benefit of the doubt, because for me, drama comes a lot earlier in the game than most. But he didn't stop there. The unbuckling revealed the zipper that opened and closed from the top of his foot up to the top of the boot. Wow, OK sir, whatever. THEN, he unlaced the boots, and it was those thick leather laces, not the loose cotton ones. So yes, this person came to the airport during the busiest travel time of the year in a pair of lace up-zipper-snap-buckle boots. That was December 26, 2006, exactly whatever number of days AFTER September 11, 2001.
My husband and I were traveling home for the Christmas holiday last year. Last year, by the way, was 2006. That will be significant shortly. We arrived at the airport three hours early, still having to stand in line for about 30 minutes to check our luggage, then another 45 minutes winding through the security check point line. It was one of those lines that goes back and forth, so you end us seeing people over and over again, perfect for people watching along the way. We watched the spoiled little girl with her doll, her purse, her boots, her bag, and her mommy. We saw the group of college kids, clearly on their first flight away from the watchful eye of mom and dad. And each time he passed us in line, we turned our backs to the man with extreme body odor; it wasn't really musty, just a weird smell that made you frown and say, "Mm-m, what's that?" As we got closer and closer to the front, we were no longer entertained by these people in the line who were from the latest TV reality show, "America's Got Talent". (Notice the lack of actual talent of the contestants/travelers.) Now, here is where my story seems veer from the path of truth on to tall tale lane. We arrived at the front of the line, where one man was the only person ahead of us. We checked him out too, seeing what he would have to endure to get through the check point. Folks, I kid you not. this man donned a denim jacket with metal snaps, t-shirts, jeans. OK sir, lose the jacket, I thought. I wonder why people wait till they get to the very front of the line to remove and conceal all their metal trinkets, watches, firearms, and the ever-threatening Dasani bottles. Get your stuff out, people! Anyway, this man had on a pair of black leather steel-toe boots. Not those cutesy ankle boots--the shaft of these boots was up to his shin. From behind, except for the seam on the back, they looked to be made from one continuous piece of leather, but alas, it was many pieces. He turned to the side to "open" them, and open them he did. First, he unsnapped them from the top. OK, I thought, step in, snap on. Simple airport attire boot. That was still more than my slip on Skechers, but to each his own. I was mistaken. After the snap, he unhooked the buckle. Hm, that's dramatic, I thought. But I still gave him the benefit of the doubt, because for me, drama comes a lot earlier in the game than most. But he didn't stop there. The unbuckling revealed the zipper that opened and closed from the top of his foot up to the top of the boot. Wow, OK sir, whatever. THEN, he unlaced the boots, and it was those thick leather laces, not the loose cotton ones. So yes, this person came to the airport during the busiest travel time of the year in a pair of lace up-zipper-snap-buckle boots. That was December 26, 2006, exactly whatever number of days AFTER September 11, 2001.
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