The Over Relaxer

Sonia writes...

In sixth grade, the time when we start to notice boys and they start to notice us, I go to the hairdresser one school night. It was actually a cosmetology school. Well, I went in with a head full of hair and returned to school the following day with a teensy weensy fro’ that had no shape, no style, no moisture. It was just sitting atop my head. Apparently, the student beautician left the relaxer in my hair too long. When she was rinsing, she had this look of pure horror on her face, called my mother over to the bowl where most of my hair was lying. I can’t remember the conversation, just the look on the ‘want to be’ hairstylist’s face and my Mother’s. I knew it was bad!