Knowing your texture, I’m glad you got relaxed very early in life. It’s really painful to comb you when you’re coarse. I do, however, wish we’d nourished you the proper way instead of slathering you with oil moisturiser – but we thought that was best at the time.
I’ve always wanted you voluminous so I’m taking steps to see if you can grow that way. Being black means length is an obsession and while I love your current length I’m hoping to see a difference in growth once the effect of healthy oils, correct shampooing, conditioning and treatments kick in. I’m really sorry about all the times the wrong relaxer was used on you and burnt you. I’m also sorry about the times you were pulled too tight for the sake of neat braids or neat cornrows.
Over the years I’ve come to realise just how fragile you are, so I can’t parade you as often as I’d like to because let’s face it, honey, you’re high maintenance.
Please know that I work in an industry that would stifle your health and growth if I used you for everything I work on. I refuse to put you in danger like that.
Thank you for working in tandem with the weaves. You wear them well. Thank you for the youthful glow that you extend right down to my skin after you’ve had a good treatment. I promise to never cut you all off again – those two occasions were desperate measures. I’ll stick to only trimming your split ends.
I love you, my crown, and I’m ever so proud that you’re mine. Cheers to your health and growth.
All my love and respect, Dineo (your loving keeper)