Very [Black] Girly Moment #1

Let me first start by saying that I don't consider myself a horribly vain person. I, of course, like to look well put together, but I wouldn't necessarily call that vanity.

However, I. Love. My. Hair. I mean, I'm completely infatuated with it. The curly texture and thickness, the multitude of ways I can style it. Add to that the amazing color (chestnut brown, courtesy of my wonderful stylist in Atlanta) and I'm just enamored. Does that make me vain? No, it means I acknowledge that I just have a dang good head of hair and bask in that realization. 

Which brings me to Very [Black] Girly Moment #1 (since I'm sure there will be more of these during the coming months.) Y'all, I got my hair done. In Madrid. By an African American man. I'm pretty sure that these three things are proof enough that miracles happen. Before arriving to Madrid, I looked up information about hair stylists and found a few potentials, but nothing that really spoke to me. Having studied abroad in Granada (in southern Spain) two years ago, I knew that hair care for African Americans had plenty of limits. After all, this is still a fairly racially homogeneous country and I just wasn't completely comfortable with letting someone who was unfamiliar with my texture experiment. In my mind, that scenario played out one of two ways: either I would go to a salon and be denied service because the stylists didn't know what to make of my hair or some brave soul would decide they were up for the challenge and then completely eff my tresses up. The former I could have dealt with; the latter would have resulted in me destroying that shop like I was re-enacting the L.A. Riots.

Nothing like a professional touch

However, after talking to another black female who's living and working in the city, I discovered the miracle-worker that is Shimada Kemp, thus preventing me from having to be rejected and/or act a hot ghetto mess on someone. She told me that he'd colored, relaxed, and cut her hair and, since I adore her cut, I decided to give him a try. I needed my ends trimmed like Mitt Romney needs a reality check, so I made an appointment with him and, within two days, I was sitting in a chair at his shop waxing nostalgic about home and letting him do his thang to my tresses. My gawd, it felt good to have someone with experience work their magic on my hair. Shimada's been in this game for longer than I've been alive, so he just sat me down, ran his hands through my hair, and went to work. Having someone who wields a pair of scissors in my hair with confidence goes a long way toward alleviating my fears that I'll walk out bald or wishing I was. So, three hours, a wash, deep condition, trim (praise the Lord!), press (like with the hot comb that you have to heat in the little portable oven thingy), and curl later, I had a lovely head of flowing hair!

I'm lovin' it

Obviously, I shall be returning to Shimada--both for his awesome company and the absolutely glorious things he can do to my hair. So, it looks like I won't have to go back to the States balding because of split ends. Praise Him!