Diary of an Honest Naturalista: Week 52

This edition marks the end of my diary for the next one year. Do you think I should continue for another year? I never knew it was going to go this far or gather so much momentum. I was just looking for a way to write from the point of a naturalista that could afford to be honest, and bypass the unrealistic expectations we tend to have when  researching about natural hair on the internet.

Happy one year anniversary to my Diary.

Let me know if you want this to go on for another year.

Love Anna – Your honest naturalista

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Good news for me, my baby is back. Life sucked, without him here to accommodate all my tendencies. We never know what we have until we lose it, and therefore tend to take the presence of loved ones for granted. One thing is for sure, I am not ready to lose this one.

I’m sure everyone is dying to know if Dimeji was able to pull off the task. I was dying to know too. I tried as much as possible not to look to anxious, and even cautioned myself from asking me if he got the items for me when he called to inform me about his arrival… well for just two minutes. He told me he did not get the items cos he didn’t take the list with him, which is what he had been saying to me on phone, while he was over there, but I did not believe him.

Fast forward to two days later, he appeared in my house, with a medium-sized carrier bag. After hugging him, with a light peck on the cheek (no time for long romantic kisses, thanks to the now-pumping anxiety), I received the bag from him, trying hard to keep my calm.

On top of the package was a pair of Steve Madden wedge sandals. I love wedges, and Dimeji knows that. I smiled when I saw the pair, but was not satiated. Beneath that were two blouses and a skirt, all looking lovely, and would have looked even more beautiful if I had actually taken time to admire them.

I looked deeper into the back, and saw what looked like hair products staring back at me.

“You got them!” I exclaimed, and ran to hug him.

He looked perplexed, obviously wondering why he did not receive the same reaction when I saw the Steve Madden wedges.

Before you could say Jack Robinson, I was back to the package, and was shocked at what I saw.

“What? Only four? Out of nineteen, you got just four?”

“You should even be happy I got any at all. How can I start buying 19 products?”

“Hellooo. You could have at least gotten 10.”

“You could have at least, written 10.” He fired back lightly.

“Oh gosh, I said Olive miracle shampoo, not olive oil shampoo. Olive oil shampoo is made by another company, and it contains sulphaaatte. Oh my gosh. What am I going to do with a sulphate shampoo?

“Olive miracle and olive oil are the same.” He defended himself.

“They are not the same.” One has sulphate.

“Well, they sound the same to me. Why can’t you just use it like that? Sulphate can’t be such a bad thing if it is hair products.”

“Aaarrrgghhh, you men, you can never understand.”

“Aaaarrrggghhh, you women, you should never send a man to do a woman’s job.” He said, while I was inspecting the products.

“Dimejjiiiii, what is this?”

“What again madam?”

“I said Golden Jojoba oil, not Jojoba oil cream.”

“Huuuhhh?” He looked confused like this...

Source

“Jojoba oil creams always have petrolatum. It is a cream, not oil. What will I do with this? First of all, you got only four out of nineteen products, and to make it worse, they are even the wrong products. Oh my gosh, I am finished…” I started lamenting, while inspecting the remaining products.

The slam of the door brought me out of my whining mode, as I turned back to see an empty living room. Dimeji’s bag and shoe was still in sight, so I knew he was somewhere around. I was wondering where he could have gone to protect himself from my products ingredients rant, when I heard his voice. He was in my brothers’ room.

I made a mistake of calling his name out, instead of barging in there to either drag him out or act like I was remorseful, and beg him to come out.

As soon as I called his name, I heard the sound of the door knob being locked, and I knew he was saturated with my rants. I heard him and one of my brothers shouting, obviously playing their stupid video games.

I was perplexed as to what to do, standing by the door, and knocking like every 15 seconds. The next thing I saw was a slip of paper shoved towards my feet. I picked it up, and it read…

“Sorry, I needed to have a sane and fun conversation with humans that actually speak normal English. I wasn’t sure I could handle one more talk of LOC, sulphate, petrolatum, conditioning or whatever without going crazy. I’ll catch you later. Enjoy your package, especially the Steve Madden I got for you. :)

I didn’t need a prophet to tell me I had goofed, once again.