Hairnorexic....is that even a word? Or is that even a good pun? Let me clarify. My hair is suffering right now from the love and affection it deserves. For those of you that may not know, I used to live in New York City. It's the place where trendy style is the status quo and every girl's fantasy is fulfilled in good food, good shoes, and bad boys. I left the big city (for reasons I will tell you at another time) and moved to the smaller city of Wilmington, NC. Yes I know---a complete 180.
This preface brings me to my point about the term "Hairnorexic". When I lived in Manhattan, my hairstylist "Nana" was my savior. I mean it...next to Jesus Himself she had dominion over my hair. She would cut, press, braid, relax, sow, clip, and curl my hair into a work of pure art. There was never a day I stepped out of my apartment looking "a hot mess". I was confident and knew I was a beautiful fine black woman ready to conquer the world...why? Because my hair said so!
That was until I moved to Wilmington, NC. It went all downhill from there. I wouldn't say I let myself go per se---but I definitely was not keeping my "tresses in check" as I had prior to living in the Big Apple. First of all I'm just going to be honest and blunt here....there are little to no black salons here. There are a few but either they're not very good or they're really good and always overbooked. God forbid you have a bad emergency hair day and need help getting your hair done ASAP. That's how I met Nana. I was walking down 145th St, desperately in dire need of a relaxer, and I walked into her salon. She saved the day. It's not like that here. If you walk into a salon without an appointment the beautician looks at you like you're from another planet.
I've been told that it's a bit of a faux pas in some social circles to walk-in without an appointment, but why should that be? Anyways, that's how it is here in Wilmington and since the population of African Americans are not nearly as many as there are on island of Manhattan, good black hair salons are hard to come by.
In the meantime my hair is starving and is suffering from a major eating disorder. I'm in the process of counseling each strand by going to friends and co-workers for hair guidance, but there is NO ONE like my Nana. I think my hair is resenting me right now for leaving her. It was through no fault of my own, but hopefully one day I will meet someone who is at least similar and trick my hair into thinking she's reunited with Nana.
Maybe...one can only hope.
J.
