I was clicking around the internet the other day and came upon the below blog entry. It seemed like it might be from someone we know. Let me know what you think.
The Strands of My Life
After a lifetime of abuse, I've decided to finally speak out. I know that there are others like me out there and I hope, that by stepping forward, I can encourage them to bravely join me. For the first few years, I was fine, allowed to grow and breathe. Never chemically treated. Maybe I was cut in an unfortunate style, but it was never too bad, and usually a month of growing could cover up even the most egregious mistakes. And then he got his driver's license and it was all down hill from there. First, just some temporary dye. He didn't like my color. First it was lighter, then darker. We tried blond, really red, really brown and everything in between. Then it was texture. We went curly and blond. God Himself only knows what that was about. I tried to resist, really I did, but he kept saying, "If you love me, you'll let this perm take," and after the 5th time, I didn't have the energy to resist the chemicals.
I though things were getting back to normal. He had given up on the perms and was just doing some light, occasional dying. There were still some occasional (i.e. frequent) bad cuts and styles, but after the abuse I had taken, bad cuts were nothing. And then, he decided to go on television and become a singer. No more bathroom dye jobs and kitchen hair cuts. No more Super Cuts perms, we had arrived. Hallelujah! My day of rejoicing had come! Or so I thought. First, he dyed both me and the little guys (who were not so little at the time) really dark. And then, then, we got a plane, and it was all over but the shouting. Flat irons, lots and lots of dying. This color and then that one. More than one color at time. Spikes. Lots of spikes. So many spikes by so many different people. I had truly become a whore. I would just stand up and take it from whoever came near me with a flat iron or piece of foil.
And now, I'm exacting my revenge. I've been told that his fans think this new cut is intentional. Many are saying that they love it. Little do they know that every night, before bed, he cuts me as short as he can stand, but I just keeping growing back every night. In his eyes, over his ears, over his collar, even on his hips. He's doing his best to cover it up, but the truth will come out eventually. The hairbrushes can't stay quiet forever.
Okay, I'm just kidding. HA! HA! But really, I'm not sure what he's doing with me right now. It was nice earlier this year, when he was just letting me be, but now there's a new guy, "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve," who attacks me with brushes and spray and whatnot. At least there are no more spikes. For now.
Soon, very soon (or is it quite soon?), I'll share pictures of what he's done to me. Don't try to contact the authorities. I've been there and done that and it's always worse for me after they've left. I'm just hoping to help protect a few innocent heads from the life of abuse I've had to lead.
Next up: The early days, tracing back to when the wheels came off the wagon.
Now, we've all seen the new picture and realized that all has not been lost. But, I think there were some scary days there and this blog definitely reflects them.
PinkArmchair
nanjeanne
farouche
msmarm
lyricAKP
kimiye
Churchmouse