Is it R E A L?
It's crazy to think back on all the years of my life trying to accumulate just H O W many times I have been asked — "is your hair real?" or the infamous, "what are you?" I get a little confused when asked these two questions because like, does my hair really look THAT fake? And what do you m e a n, "what am I?" Ugh, a human? Like, what are you? #LOLOL
I never mind, get offended or feel targeted when asked these two questions but more so just genuinely curious as to H O W you sincerely find enough courage within to come straight up to me W I T H O U T even introducing yourself, asking me my name OR even just saying hi as an ice breaker—it's typically an abrupt straight forward question with 100% curiosity right to the point.
I remember, freshman year of college, I stopped into Starbucks to get a smoothie before my oldest sister and I venture home to MA for the weekend. I was patiently waiting for my drink (mind you, it was probably after 8 PM) and I see out of the corner of my eye, a fellow student walking towards me. I look up, realize that he had just literally walked all the way from our little dining section about a ¼ mile away, swiping into Starbucks and coming to where I was standing solely to grab a straw. Yes, you read right . . . . . . . . a straw.
Although there was a whole station of utensils + straws in the dining room, this little fella' came all the way across just to grab a straw from Starbucks and nonchalantly ask (with no preface)
Fella': "Is that all yours?"
Me: "Um, excuse me? I'm sorry, is what all mine?"
Fella': "Your hair."
Me: (laughing) "Of course! Who's else would it be!?"
Fella': "You never know these days, they could be extensions."
Me: "Nope, all mine. Could you pass me a straw, please?"
Long story short, this is essentially how these conversations go (give or take a few words + the question) and I've just learned to embrace them laughing and genuinely admiring people's curiosity!
F O R T H E R E C O R D :
YES, my hair is A L L mine (thankYOU mum + dad) and I have o n l y ever cut my hair twice (not counting trims, which I hardly ever get) in my whole life! *Fun fact, our father never allowed us girls to cut our hair when we were younger UNtil that one time in 8th grade when he gave in and allowed me to get a "little" trim . . . . . I canNOT remember why I ever convinced myself to try something new but I was far too daring and chopped O F F all my hair. My length went from past my bum to now just barely hitting my shoulders. I hated it. I cried. It was horrendous and poodles out like a dog, l i t e r a l l y. Literally scared myself fo'life. And ever since then, I have never ever ever and I mean E V E R cut my hair UNtil this past July when my lovely high school BFF slightly trimmed my dead split ends off + gave me O N E long layer (you da bomb MandaLisa).
As Blu clarified in an earlier post, our mother is French + Italian and a bunch of things in between and our father is Bahamian + Puerto Rican. Yes, all of that and then some. And no (unfortunately) I canNOT speak spanish—it's Daddy's fault!