Unbeweavable!

I got my hair done! 18 inches baby! I look like a video h---ok enough of that…but my new hair is bangin' and attracting attention. No not THAT kind of attention, THIS kind of attention…

As I was leaving the hair salon, three older ladies who were on their way to purchase some hair bombarded me. They stopped me on my way to my car to hold a press conference about my hair.

“Where did you get it from?” “Who did it?” How long did it take?”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies, please I will have time for questions later,” I said, as I flung my hair over my shoulder like I was in a Pantene Pro-v commercial.

I led them into the hair shop, next door to the salon, to point out the kind of hair I was sporting. One of the ladies began gushing again, “Honey your hair is so beautiful, now you got to go and get yourself a boyfriend.”

Excuse me? I was not wearing my, “I don’t have a boyfriend T-shirt?” How did she know I was single?

“That is if you are single,” she added.

Before I could respond, one of the other ladies chimed in, “oh no, forget a boyfriend just get married. You don’t need a boyfriend, she said shaking her head, you need a marriage.”

Ok I did not get my hair did with aspirations of getting married and having babies. And in order to get married don’t you have to get a boyfriend first? I thought the days of arranged marriages were over? Actually at this rate I would take that arranged marriage, but I’d have to be getting something out of the deal besides babies.

Back in the hair shop, twenty minutes later, after explaining the process of how-to-have-Puddin’-hair to the trio, I finally escaped to my car.

From now on I’m sticking to bars. Sports bars. And wherever else hair talk doesn’t turn into marriage…