Look Ma, I got my hair cut!

Soooo...confession time. I accidentally kinda sorta hadn't gotten a trim in about 2 years. Hair fail, I know. 

But like, I felt like any salon I went to, unless it was specifically a natural hair salon, was going to be all, 'we have to straighten your hair to cut it,' and y'all know I don't play that. So I just didn't cut my hair. And I wasn't really worried about it.

But then last Friday, the Princeton Association of Black Women had a "Black is Beautiful" hair event at--get this--THE BLACK OWNED AND OPERATED HAIR SALON THAT IS LEGITIMATELY A TWO MINUTE WALK OFF CAMPUS AND HAS SOMEHOW EXISTED THERE FOR THE PAST FIVE YEARS WITHOUT ME KNOWING ABOUT IT. THE FUCK?! I wasn't sure they would be natural-friendly, but the event was free and promised goodies, so I RSVP'ed. 

And I'm glad I did, because we each wound up getting free consultations by the hair professionals at the salon. Mine was from Mr. Godfrey Fitzgerald (these are bougie black people) himself, and he basically told me that I had a great head of hair and that he was impressed with my overall regimen, but that I was in dire need of a trim. He was surprised my hair was as healthy as it is given how long it had been. 

And then they told us they were doing a 2-for-1 special in the month of December, so if we came in with a friend at the same time, we could get both of our heads done for the price of one. You know I was so quick to hop on that train that (after confirming that I could get my hair cut without having to put heat on it), I made my appointment with a girl I met THAT night at the event, haha.

So our appointment was for THE GODDAMN CRACK OF DAWN 9 o clock this morning, and after re-asserting the fact that I was not going to have heat put on my head (in my I will walk right up out this bougie-ass salon voice), I got my hair shampooed (small cringe), conditioned, combed out with three different combs (including one that was approaching fine-toothed. I was impressed.), and then the scissors appeared. She combed small sections of my hair at a time with the almost-fine-toothed comb, following the teeth with her fingers, and when she got to the straggly ends, snip snip went the scissors. It had been so long since I'd had a trim that I was dying a little inside with every snip, but I tried to be strong. I knew it was for the best. [I told her that and she said a little more could stand to be cut, but she didn't want to make it too short. *GULP*]

Anyway, she gets through combing and snipping the whole thing, then goes, okay, let me fluff this up as big as possible so we can start shaping. And she basically combs all my curls out into a huge legitimate afro, and then begins snipping to form a perfect circle. And I mean PERFECT, y'all. Check this ish out:

The name's Thunda...Afro Thunda.

LOOK AT THE PERFECTION OF THAT CIRCLE!!! IT'S THE SEVENTIES UP IN HERE Y'ALL!!!

The nerd in me wants to find the circumference of this ish.

Then I wet it and it curled right back up, no worries:

And thennnn, since I had an interview today, I concocted a little professional style. I did a side-part reminiscent of my straight-haired days, then loosely rolled the sides back and bobby-pinned the shit out of the back so it kind of all laid flat and then poked out again below my ears:

Tell me that ain't professional, I dare you.

(Interview went well-ish, even though it's for a job I'm 98% sure I don't want. I advanced to the next round and now they want me to do shit. Ugh.)

Anyway, that's the story of my haircut! Princeton ladies, I officially highly recommend Godfrey Fitzgerald's salon on Witherspoon Street. My only complaint is that I have noticed a little bit of flakiness near my roots this evening, but any interaction with shampoo tends to dry my hair out like nobody's business, so I'ma DC in the morning and I think everything will be good.