Dream Weaver

Instant gratification, ahhhh nirvana.
I’m sure you all remember having the dolls who with a push of a
button (belly button) and voila! Long hair, short hair, shoulder length
hair… hair! Hair! Hair!

I worked on a maternity floor at a very busy hospital as a surgical
assistant, where I met and became good friends with an OBGYN, She was
not a regular doctor, not the ones we mostly worked with (self
inflated superior a-holes). She was cool and ended up being my BFF, my
partner in crime. But having an air of responsibility (she was in
charge of birthing children for gods sake), I felt somewhat safe during
our antics, we had so many fun adventures.

I had started getting extensions… 10 pieces, then 30, maybe just 10
more. Like a fat girl in a bakery gorging on sweets, I was obsessed
with the magic of instant hair.

Anyone who knows about extensions knows it’s a big girls sport,
expensive as hell, and like anything, the more skilled, the more
moolah. And let me add, anyone who has had them says the same thing:
“they’re addictive”.

I couldn’t afford the maintenance. They had to be changed out monthly, yet you couldn’t stop adding piece after $10.00 piece. Yes y’all, $10.00 per strand as I have found out. A full head would run about $1800. Translation 180 pieces of human hair cut from the heads of eastern European women, placed with skill on the heads of upper income bitches.

BFF, a skilled surgeon, was sure she could perform said task. Alas, I
would have my head of locks, researched hair, tools, and paid very
close attention to the process while in the salon getting my measly 30
strands maintained.

Armed with a bundle of virgin hair, tools, and a large coffee,
perched on a yellow vintage chair in my kitchen, (1929 bungalow, still
miss that house), we  embarked on dreamweaver take one.

5 hours later(BFF has the patience of jobe), behold! I had a full head of 22 inch flaming red lady Godiva locks. I felt like a movie star minus the
bod, clothes, and bank account…we did it!

Did I mention I had a yard sale, or as we referred to it,” a hair sale”
to purchase the merchandise in question…can you say, white
trash?!

Now when I look back on that chapter, I do it with fondest thoughts of
a friend who was there with me in my silliest of times and didn’t
judge or complain, but showed up for me. I always knew it was a special
time, but now I truly realize that girlfriends are our greatest
treasure. They are the real deal. The ones we run to with things
almost too embarrassing to admit to ourselves, then they show up and
validate, motivate, cultivate, and support us.  In those times my
girlfriends pulled me through more shit and strife than I can ever
thank them for.

So here’s to all BFFs who make us laugh in the process of making life
just a little easier and a lot more fun. Girl power! I always say your
man is the icing on the cake; your girlfriends are the glue holding
that frickin’ cake together!

My hair fell out in huge clumps, I had bald spots for 6 months and had
to cut my hair into a very short blunt bob, I rocked it, and wouldn’t
have changed a thing.
Note to self… The girls in the salon that make $ 200.00 an hour
are making it for a reason. This is not the last time I toiled with
Barbie hair………

Peace out bitches!
~Reigan Riley