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Hair rules! : the Ultimate Hair-Care Guide for Women with Kinky, Curly, or Wavy Hair PDF

106 Pages·2007·3.58 MB·English
by  Dickey
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Preview Hair rules! : the Ultimate Hair-Care Guide for Women with Kinky, Curly, or Wavy Hair

Table of Contents Title Page Dedication Foreword Introduction Chapter 1 - Hairitage Your “Hairitage,” or a Little History of Nonstraight Hair Your Texture, Your Type Hair Myths Choosing a Good Stylist Reform and Rehabilitation (R&R) Questions & Answers Chapter 2 - Beauty Supply So Many Products, So Little Time . . . Are You a Product Junkie? What’s in a Name? Know Thyself Shampoos Conditioners Essential Oils The Finishing Touches Questions & Answers Chapter 3 - It’s Your Thing! Do What You Want to Do! Your God-given Glory Basic Training Shampooing Conditioning Have It Your Curly, Kinky Way! Knowledge Is Power Questions & Answers Chapter 4 - Some Like It Wet Your Grandmother Knows Something You Don’t Blow-Drying: Armed and Dangerous Girls Under the Hood Questions & Answers Chapter 5 - Relax It! Should I or Shouldn’t I? C’mon, Ladies, Let’s Relax! Thermal Reconditioning Texturizing Chemical Straightening Handle with Loving Care Questions & Answers Chapter 6 - Color It! What Did You Do to Look So New? Highlighting From Temporary to Permanent Shampooing and Conditioning Questions & Answers Chapter 7 - “Unbeweavable” To Weave or Not to Weave? You’d Better Shop Around Care and Maintenance Bonding Questions & Answers Chapter 8 - The Doctor Can See You Now Meet Dr. Jeanine Downie Dermatology Best Practices: What You as a Dermatologist Would Advise Any Woman Diseases and Conditions of the Scalp and Hair Acknowledgments The Sweet “Hairafter” The Hair Rules! Hair Care and Styling System Copyright Page This book is dedicated to my grandparents Mac and Daisy Dickey Foreword Tomiko Fraser My hair. My hair has been a topic of conversation for as long as I can remember. It started with my entry into this world and the inevitable question on all black folks’ minds when a black girl is born: “Does she have good hair?” Sitting in front of my mother’s stove as a young girl while she straightened my hair (and I’d better not move or else I’d get the burn of my life). Going on long bus trips as a teenager to a faraway beauty salon—I still don’t know why we had to travel so far—to have my hair relaxed. I would leave the salon smelling of hair products and feeling the breeze finally reach my freshly relaxed scalp. (Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.) My hair has always been, first and foremost, an undertaking. Fast-forward to my new career as a model. I had arrived! I just knew that I would be in good hands because the people whom I worked with were professionals. Right? I quickly learned that just because someone had a portfolio full of famous women whose hair they’d got their hands on didn’t mean that all was safe and sound. If I began to tell you all of the horror stories about how my hair was fried, twisted, pulled, colored, weaved, wigged, and so on, your head would spin. Needless to say, it wasn’t always cute. I longed for the day when I could look in the mirror and be happy with what had been done to my poor little head. I even got to the point where I would bring all my own tools to ensure a satisfactory job. I carried wigs, hairpieces, products, combs, brushes, curling irons, straightening combs . . . the list goes on. I have made many a hairstylist green with envy because of my collection of materials. (They didn’t understand that a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.) So, it should come as no surprise to you that my hair was a constant source of stress for me. I just didn’t believe that the so-called professionals or I would ever get it right. That constant worrying finally led to what is affectionately called a “stress spot” on the top of my head. (Basically, ladies, I had a bald spot.) I attribute it to a combination of worry and plain old wear and tear. My poor little head had had enough. It wasn’t playing by my rules anymore. It had developed a mind of its own. There was nothing I could do. I tried letting my natural hair grow in, only to have it break off again once I relaxed it. I wore a weave for a few years, hoping that the hair would regrow, to no avail. I even sported an old man’s comb-over for a short period of time. It was sad. Really sad. (It’s okay to laugh because I sure do. Now.) Enter Mr. Dickey. Dickey was, throughout all my hair drama, the sole voice of reason. “Girl, you know you need to wear your hair natural” was his mantra. He’d been a world-renowned hairstylist for many years, so I guess he felt like he knew something. But he was dealing with my hair. I knew what worked for me. Right? How was he going to tell someone in my position, with my level of visibility, to wear a natural? Didn’t he know that I had worked long and hard to establish my look? When clients asked for Tomiko, they knew they were getting “the black girl next door.” I couldn’t jeopardize that with a big ole ’fro! What was he thinking? The nerve! So, he did as I asked and relaxed, straightened, or weaved my hair. Well, wouldn’t you know it? My stress spot grew even larger. And this time with a vengeance! I remember sitting on the bathroom floor of a bed-and-breakfast, where I was spending the weekend a few years ago, with my hair coming out in my hands!! That’s it! Time out! This had gotten ridiculous! Guess where I was that Monday morning? In Dickey’s chair getting all of my relaxed hair cut off. “Off,” I said. I cried like a baby. And he wasn’t all gentle and sweet. He cut my hair off like it had just slapped him in the face. He was finally getting his way. I couldn’t bear to look in the mirror. Who was this person? And why was she bald-headed? I didn’t want to look at her anymore. So, I quickly left the salon with my head hanging low.

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