Diary of an Honest Naturalista: Week 121

This week was a mix and match of bitter and sweet. It started with the horrible experience of the evil traffic from Monday to Wednesday, and then ended with two days of rest in which I totally refused to lift a finger.

Monday morning was the worst. I spent five hours in the bus caught in traffic. Unfortunately, I did not carry a portable mirror in my bag so I had no idea of how messed up I was looking when I got to work.

On entering the office building, I greeted the security guy, who replied me with a strange look, but I assumed it to be his reprimanding stares for my lateness, so I just ignored it. I couldn’t be bothered with such fickle things in my state.

Immediately I got into the office space, I heard a dramatic scream from Yemisi.

“What happened to you?”

I was taken aback shortly before answering “Nothing. I was caught up in traffic for 5 hours. Can you imagine?”

“No, I mean what happened to you. You look like a mess.”

“Ehm, didn’t you hear me. I said I was in traffic for 5 hours. I am extremely tired. I even had to get down from the bus after a while, and walk a distance under the Lagos drizzles.”

“Is that why you look like this? After all, half of the women in this office were caught up in the same traffic too. Your hair looks like it was pulled all over by a lion.”

“Really?” I instantly touched my hair to understand what she was saying.

Without any further argument, she whipped out a mirror. “See for yourself.”

I always left my house with shiny well-moisturised twists looking good enough to eat, but ended up at work with something in between the strands of a mop stick and a mass of tangled wires.

What I saw was enough to make me faint!

Source

“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe I have been walking all over looking like this. People must think I am mad.”

“Of course you are mad. How can you look like this?”

“I swear, my hair was very okay and good-looking when I left home.” I tried to defend myself. “Ha, see how this hair just disgraced me.”

I immediately ran to the rest room, and took a very look at myself, all the while absorbing the strange looks everyone was giving me.

First of all, several sections were stiff and standing up straight, rather that the fallen shiny state they were previously in. In my state of exasperation in the traffic, I had run my hands through my hair enough to roughen them and tangle them around one another. There were some visible white flakes. Obviously some of these foreign hair products weren’t manufactured with Lagos stress and traffic in mind.

I just stared and stared, and after about 3 minutes, I just burst into laughter. I think I had just had enough for the day, and I was really going mad for real.

I took out a hair ruffle from my bag, and packed my twists in one section. My edges were terrible that way, but I didn’t give a damn. The day was already over.

Who cares about beauty or looking good mehhnnn? On such a day as this, making it out in one piece is the real miracle. Lagos, thank you for transforming me to a confirmed mad girl.

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