So on Monday I was on my way home from Harare. I live in Norton, so the ride (in public transport) takes close to an hour on a good day. So while I was on my way home I saw the most luscious, juicy afro puff ever. You know, the kind that makes you want to shave off all your relaxed/texlaxed strands and go natural in the hope that you will one day have hair like that. So the lady with the puff was sitting in front of me so I couldn't ask her about her hair practices, or compliment her on her really excellently kept hair. I just held in my comments and questions, waiting for an opportunity to talk to her.
And then, seemingly, my prayers were answered. Someone sitting in the row in front of me had to get off the ride, meaning that she had to move to that row. Here was my chance to talk to her. As she turned around to move to the back of the taxi, I got the shock of my life. That luscious, juicy afro puff was just a hair piece. Her own hair was overprocessed, broken off, greasy and just not well maintained. I felt so crushed by the level of betrayal. How could she get me into HHJ mod only to crush my hops and dreams.
Moral of the story is: Never get too excited by great looking hair until you see the condition of the whole head of hair