My head is swollen.
No, not big - swollen.
Visited my hairdresser today, put myself in her talented hands. She began sectioning off, parting, combing out, twisting. I felt rubber bands, heard them twanging. My natural African hair in her hands.
After a while, the pulling began. The tightening of twist to twist. My legs began to experience a sort of nervousness, as if the pulling at my head tugged at nerves linked to my legs, irritated them.
I asked for a moment, stood up, stretched, tried to get some blood circulating again. Sat back down. Into the wresting of the hair, the conflict at my scalp.
I said 'my head is throbbing'. She said 'oh, it's tight?' in a voice that bore no sympathy but rather, barely hid amusement. 'Yes' I said.
She continued to perpetrate violence upon my scalp, my cerebellum, my brains, my nerves. I continued to let her.
After about an hour, it was over. The referee rang the bell and she retreated to her corner, the obvious winner, me the loser having to fork over $150.00 winning fee to her.
A small price to pay for beauty. Beauty. Right.
Left the salon with my head tight, but not painful. Walked around a bit, got home. Tighter now, throbbing, pulsing at the edges. Tried to lie down, sleep a bit.
Faded in and out of sleep like a shadow playing in the street in moonlight.
Useless trying. My head was worse. Not a headache, but an ongoing tight throb, my entire head a heart pumping waves of pulses, going, going, going.
I left the bed, went to the mirror, saw what I was feeling for the past few hours. My twists taut against the scalp, flesh swollen and round beneath it. Swollen. Shiny. Beautiful?
Since when is pain, discomfort beautiful?
I spritz water around my head in a futile attempt to do ...something. Nothing.
I sit here, now, at the computer, transcribing my discomfort into words for other potential victims to harken to. Advice - style, fashion, beauty does not equal pain. Don't be a schmutz like me, here with my heart in my head, wondering how I'm going to sleep tonight. If it hurts, say 'stop'.
I know tomorrow it will be better, the swelling will go down. But right now is not tomorrow. I am here, in this time, now.
Help.
......but it does look good, though.
No, not big - swollen.
Visited my hairdresser today, put myself in her talented hands. She began sectioning off, parting, combing out, twisting. I felt rubber bands, heard them twanging. My natural African hair in her hands.
After a while, the pulling began. The tightening of twist to twist. My legs began to experience a sort of nervousness, as if the pulling at my head tugged at nerves linked to my legs, irritated them.
I asked for a moment, stood up, stretched, tried to get some blood circulating again. Sat back down. Into the wresting of the hair, the conflict at my scalp.
I said 'my head is throbbing'. She said 'oh, it's tight?' in a voice that bore no sympathy but rather, barely hid amusement. 'Yes' I said.
She continued to perpetrate violence upon my scalp, my cerebellum, my brains, my nerves. I continued to let her.
After about an hour, it was over. The referee rang the bell and she retreated to her corner, the obvious winner, me the loser having to fork over $150.00 winning fee to her.
A small price to pay for beauty. Beauty. Right.
Left the salon with my head tight, but not painful. Walked around a bit, got home. Tighter now, throbbing, pulsing at the edges. Tried to lie down, sleep a bit.
Faded in and out of sleep like a shadow playing in the street in moonlight.
Useless trying. My head was worse. Not a headache, but an ongoing tight throb, my entire head a heart pumping waves of pulses, going, going, going.
I left the bed, went to the mirror, saw what I was feeling for the past few hours. My twists taut against the scalp, flesh swollen and round beneath it. Swollen. Shiny. Beautiful?
Since when is pain, discomfort beautiful?
I spritz water around my head in a futile attempt to do ...something. Nothing.
I sit here, now, at the computer, transcribing my discomfort into words for other potential victims to harken to. Advice - style, fashion, beauty does not equal pain. Don't be a schmutz like me, here with my heart in my head, wondering how I'm going to sleep tonight. If it hurts, say 'stop'.
I know tomorrow it will be better, the swelling will go down. But right now is not tomorrow. I am here, in this time, now.
Help.
......but it does look good, though.
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