Good Hair, Bad Hair, My Hair,

Okay, okay, okay.  I am going there about the hair.  I have had a love/hate relationship with my hair since about 4th grade when my mother thought it would be a great idea to get my hair "permed".  Which for US black people means relaxed straight.  Before I got the perm though, I would get my hair washed and pressed every other Saturday night or Sunday morning.  I actually loved this, not because of what my hair looked like afterward, but because I got my mother's undivided attention for however long it took to do.  Many of life lessons were learned sitting there in front of the stove taking in the smell of hot hair and hair grease.  This was when I learned to tie my hair down to keep it from "going home", and became very familiar with the "kitchen"...my mother burned me so many times I am surprised there are not permanent scars!

Then I got the chemical treatment, which started me on the slippery slope of self hair-hatred.  Wow.  My hair was so straight, and it was never the same.  Now mind you that I was in about 5th grade so I was still wearing pig tail braids.  One on top, two on the side.  If she was in a hurry, just one braid on each side of the head.  I could play in the rain, I could  sweat.  It stayed straight.  I didn't look like a lion anymore.  I still had no idea about good hair or bad hair.  It was just my hair.

Fast forward to middle school.  My mother thought it would be a great idea to allow my aunt (who was in beauty school...) to relax and CUT my hair.  I was assured it was going to be a shag....Yeeeaahh, not quite.  It was more of a fluffy mullet.  Oh the humiliation!!  I became keenly aware of my hair, its texture, that it was different.  I don't know where this came from but it sparked years of way too much money spent on trying to make my hair "right", whatever that was.  I expiremented with so many cuts, colors and styles.  I didn't understand why my hair wouldn't just act right.  It was all consuming!!  I would actually call in sick to go to the hair dresser if my hair was not right.  Pathetic.

In my mid twenties I was diagnosed with cancer.  Reality check!  You really can't care much about your hair when going through chemo treatment because, well, there is no hair to care about!  Unless you consider the weirdly colored straw feeling stuff that kind of sits on top of your head until it just falls out or washes down the drain in the shower.  Yes, I must say, that was a turning point for me and my hair.

I am so at peace now with my hair. I have embraced it for what it is.  It's my hair!  It's the sum total of all the nationalities in me, it is the blessing that God gave me after being completely bald for two years.  It's loving all of me and accepting myself and the fact that I do not need to define myself by some impossible societal standard.  It's so liberating, I wish I know this sooner!

Well It's about Time, and Dream Really Do Come True!

Okay, I really intended to blog everyday while I was on vacation, to capture the awe and amazement of fulfilling so many dreams...But that didn't happen. First of all, I was indeed in awe of the water, the sky, the ship, the fact that I didn't have to remember to put my pager next to the bed or find my phone in the morning in case some one tried to call me. I was in complete relax mode! (and the ship charged .75 cents a minute for Internet access...I'm not cheap, but that is ridiculous!)

So we started out with a relatively smooth flight, except when a passenger had a heart attack on the plane and had to be AED'd...or when one of the party that we were traveling with lost his wallet on the plane, and the airline personnel lied and said they look for it. (A passenger on the next flight found it sitting right on the seat in plain view. He FedEx'd it to him...Nice guy!) Miami was amazing, and HOT. We kind of felt like cattle on our way into the port to go through customs and the check in process was long to get onto the ship, but oh when we got there!!! Amazing! Between the drinks and food, and more drinks and a little more food and one more drink, we took off for our first stop in Samana, Dominican Republic. Then it was off to St. Thomas (my favorite), Tortola British Virgin Islands and finally Great Stirrup Cay, the cruise line's private island paradise.

It was on the island that my dream came true. Quite literally. See for years, 32 to be exact, I have been deathly afraid of water after a near drowning at 8 years old. I developed a mental block of the previous 3 years of learning to swim and loving it! I hated the water to come anywhere near my belly button...Oh, but something about the beautiful Caribbean ocean allayed those fears. For as long as I can remember I would have dreams about swimming under under water(I'm sure it means something)and seeing the fish and plankton. It would be so real. However there was no way I was going to do that in real life. Uh uh not me. But I did. I actually swam in the ocean and snorkeled. It was amazing and just like my dreams, but even better! It was so amazing to feel that sense of accomplishment, of doing something that I only could dream of.

I feel so empowered now. I feel like I can do anything, be anything (yep even at this old age!) Accomplish things that just seem so daunting. It was the trip of a lifetime up to this point. I plan on making other dreams come true too, so I will have to take more trips I guess!