i can't wait to get my hair done this weekend. i've been walking around the city with this gigantic angela davis afro all pinned up and under woolen wraps. when i take it down at night, it springs to life like it's gasping for air. i exhaust my arms wrestling it into submission with pink lotion and muscle. most of the time, i look like a fuzzbomb.
of course, my friend loves it. (men.) whenever my hair looks like this, he calls me "pretty," like it's my name.
and no, you're not getting a picture.
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