Realization

I hated going to the hair dresser; early, every saturday morning.  I knew when the "new growth" came in, I better not scratch or I would be in for a burning surprise.  Week after week, month after month, for 12 years of my life I used to inflict self-hate on myself with my mother's permission.  One day, I went to the hair dresser, and told her, that there was nothing wrong with the way my hair grew in its natural form, and I never got a relaxer since.  I can rock my fro, make it curly with conditioner, wear weave, or flat iron it myself.  I realized that I was beautiful, thick (hair and body) dark skinned, versatile and amazing in every way, and that others need to see it for themselves, or look in the mirror.