My childhood struggle. My grandmom didn’t give one single solitary fuck about the whiplash she was giving me. And when she tried to comb through…don’t even get me started. Let’s just say, I cried REAL THUG tears.
^^that, plus many combs broken
Broken combs, tears, migraine headaches, almost missing the bus doing this shit in the morning… LORD!
Dont forget getting popped with the brush or comb because of moving !!
don’t forget about having to slap your scalp because your braids were too goddamn tight to scratch
the struggle is so real…smh Do we even want to talk about neck/side of the head burns from the hot comb?
my mom burned my ear so many times because of the hot comb ;3;
whenever i cried she would rap my scalp with the wide tooth comb she was using to part my hair and call me ‘tenderheaded’
:(RIP to all the broken combs
This is speaking to my soul
So, so many memories here ;__; That hot comb comment, oh lord, hot combs. You hold your ear and watch that comb on the stove being engulfed in flames and you pray you don’t get burned. Then the times you got burned (back of the ear, neck, ect.) it was, “Beauty is pain,” or, “Everybody gets burned at least once."
Don’t get me started on perms. "DON’T SCRATCH YOUR HEAD BECAUSE YOU’RE GETTING A PERM TOMORROW” they say, which just makes it itch more.
And braids. Braids. BRAIDS! My aunt use to crotchet them into my hair. Yes, you read that right. You braid your hair then here comes the sewing of those crinkly, cute braids, and just… omg.
Although I admit one of the most fun things about having a white girlfriend is having these conversations and seeing the perplexed look on her face. Like, crotchet, like sewing into your hair?! Yes dear, that’s exactly what I mean.
