I Am Not My Hair

This is what my hair looks like today. No lie.

Now, everyone says they like it. (Everyone at work, that is...but to say I'm a nappy headed ho is an HR offense apparently...)

But I have a feeling, had I been rocking a white ruffle shirt and a long purple overcoat, the laughter would begin.

It's fine. I didn't have time to style the INSANELY tight curls this morning without calling in sick.

I pulled them though.

And pulled. AND PULLED...and at first...I looked a bit like her...

...but without the fragile church body.

So I pulled some more. And suddenly...I saw the clock.

I had two minutes to make my train, and I looked like I was about to whup Charlie Murphy's ass in basketball and then serve him pancakes. (If you don't get that reference, shame on you. I already gave you one of the funniest comedy clips in history. Hath you no cable?)

Suddenly...I remembered the number one rule of fashion...

Fake it.

And with faking it means walking a certain way...you know. The "I'm the shit" way.

And suddenly, heads turned.

Now, it could have been the attitude...

Or the crazy amount of cleavage I had bouncing, which I didn't notice till I sat down on the subway and happened to look down.

I'm talking, Victoria's Secret..Very Sexy Demi Push Up type cleavage.

And it was bouncin all over the place.

And above hair...men like tits. Actually, everyone likes tits.

So back when I was 21, and I dyed my hair platinum blond, I thought people were staring at me because I was...well...black with platinum blond hair.

Nope.

It was because I had my tits hanging out.

And when I cut it all off, and got a blunt bob...I thought it was that.

Nah-uh. Nor when I put cold "Missy Misdemeanor Elliot" waves in it, (though I was going for Josephine Baker...)

...nor when I rocked fake blond dreads.

Or braids down to my ass.

Or an afro like Florida Evans.

Or a relaxed layered look.

Or a big natural curly...thing...a la...Scary Spice.

All that matters to people who don't know you upon first meeting...are tits and a smile.

That's it.

And if I were Reverend Run, I'd type that shit in my Sidekick while I sank into my bubble bath at the end of the day...cuz it's the truth.

Example...

Dolly Parton's hair looks like shit. Always has. However...

I'm sure I could come up with more examples, but I'm pressed for time.

The point is, my best friend has big tits. Big ones. And long hair.

And though her hair gets complimented on constantly, her tits don't...but she gets to cross the street AGAINST the light, regardless of whether her hair is out and flowing up pinned up.

Don't wonder why. Don't play games with me.

So ladies, I'm not saying this because I was initially insecure about my hair...OK. That's a lie, I am saying it because I was initially insecure about my hair.
However, my insecurities benefit YOU.

Why? Because you have tits*. And your hair really doesn't mean jack squat.
It really doesn't. And once and for all...say it with me...

WEAVES ARE BAD. Just watch "Charm School". That'll set you straight.

If you're going to fake anything ladies, let it be the tits.

You're welcome.

-Nye

*If you don't have tits and look like you have two backs, I'm sure you have ass.
If you don't have that either...wow. You just might be screwed.