Natural Beauty (8 page)

Shrinkage:
Because of the tight curl pattern of African American hair, much length is lost
due to what is called shrinkage. Especially after washing, hair can lose
several inches in visible length due to shrinkage. One of the first steps to
natural hair care is finding a healthy way to stretch the hair and give it
length.

~~~

Hair
tip #13: Styling dry hair keeps it from shrinking as much. Hair should be dry
but well-oiled and moisturized before attempting things like twist outs and
braid outs.

~~~

My
hair was finally growing. I could tell. When I sat in front of the mirror and
stretched out one of the tightly curled strands of hair, I could see how long
it was. Unfortunately, as soon as I released the hair it shriveled up against
my head again making it look like I had no hair at all.

I
had no idea how I was going to style my hair for my date with James. I didn't
know why I was so worried about it. On our two previous dates, he didn't seem
to mind my natural hair. In fact, he loved it. He often introduced me as his
naturally beautiful black queen. I guess that was one benefit to dating a black
man. I knew that if I was with
Vinny
, I would
constantly have to explain this transformation my hair was undergoing. He
completely wouldn't understand why it suddenly wasn't straight anymore.

"Honestly,
I'm so happy we're together now," James with two ‘A’s said.

Together?
We had been on three dates
spread out over a month and hadn't done more than a little front door kissing
that I actually didn't find too exciting. Did that mean we were a couple? I
really didn't know. Maybe that was how things worked nowadays. After a few
dates there was an understood agreement that you were a couple. That didn't
sound quite right to me. That really didn't seem like the way things went with
Carnece
.

"Um, why?"
I asked not knowing what else to
say.

"I've
seen you around the neighborhood before with an Indian looking man. Was he your
man before?"

I
nodded.

James
with two ‘A’s shook his head. "You see that is what is wrong with our
people."

"Our people?"

"Yes,
black people.
Always trying to date outside of our race.
It's disrespectful."

I
almost choked on my chicken. "Disrespectful?
To
who?"

"To us.
How are we supposed to teach a
new generation of young people to have pride in their skin color if our own
people don’t? When you date someone of another race, it's like saying that your
own people aren't good enough."

I
was too shocked to speak. I knew some people felt that way, but I had never
actually met someone. I thought it was only some white people who were against
interracial dating. I didn't know there were some black people who felt that
way as well. I guess you could call this reverse racism. Wait a minute. That
term didn't sit right with me. It was like saying that
white
people being racist toward black was
the right way, but black racism
toward white was backwards. All racism is wrong no matter what direction it
goes.

I
put my fork down and as calmly as possible said, "So let's say
hypothetically that we have a child and he or she falls in love with someone of
a different skin color. You would forbid them from marrying?"

"Absolutely,"
Jaames
said without hesitation. "All of my
children know that's unacceptable. A quick fling is one thing, but marriage or
procreation is completely out of the question."

My
heart beat started to accelerate. Some women might not have been as offended as
I was in that moment. They could have thought of it as a compliment that a
black man thought black women were the only women worthy enough for him.
Especially considering the way the rest of society considered black women. But
for me, I couldn't help wondering if
Vinny's
family
might have had conversations exactly like this. If
Vinny
was raised in a similar environment, then it perfectly explained why marriage
to me never even crossed his mind.

Wait
a minute. What was that he had said about children? "Your children know
it's unacceptable? You have children?"

"Yeah,
I do," he said simply as if it was common knowledge. "I have
eleven."

"Eleven?
You have eleven children?"

He
nodded. "And I hope to have many more. Children are a beautiful thing
don't you agree?"

"Yeah
and blue birds are beautiful too but that doesn't mean I want eleven of
them!"

James
with two ‘A’s laughed. "You are too cute. We are going to be good
together."

And
what exactly did that mean? Was he planning on knocking me up a few times? Was
that his idea of good?

Needless
to say, I was a bit distracted for the rest of the date. James with two ‘A’s
was a little too much for me to handle. He was beyond too much to handle, he
was insane. Why would he think I'd want to get involved with someone who had
eleven kids? I had to
find
 
a
way out of this relationship that was apparently started
without my knowledge.

"Once
I see a woman that I know will make beautiful babes, I don't leave her alone
until we have those babies. I'm like a lion on the prowl." He smiled at me
as if that was some sort of sexy pick up line. Did women actually go for that?
Apparently so.
It had worked at least eleven other times.

"Don't
worry, it's not like I'm a dead beat dad or anything. I support all of my kids.
And I'll support you as well. That's why I work so hard.
Gotta
support my families."

This
was actually the first time we had a date that didn't revolve around one of his
performances. Maybe that was why the eleven kid thing hadn't come up before. He
had just called me this morning and asked if we could have lunch. And now in
the middle of lunch, I had really lost my appetite.

Just
out of curiosity I decided to probe a little further in to James' ideas.
"So how do you feel about Halle Berry?"

"She
looks too
Caucasian
for my tastes but I can see how
some men find her attractive."

Some men?
Well, that was an
understatement.

"So
you're saying you would kick Halle Berry out of your bed if she decided to
climb in there one day for some reason."

"Now,
I'm not saying all that. I'm just saying I wouldn't want to procreate with her
for fear that our children would come out too Caucasian."

"Right.
Procreate. Right," I said nodding. He had a right to be wrong. No problem.
Just not with me. But the whole Halle Berry conversation gave me an excellent
idea.

When
it was time to head back to the office, I asked James with two ‘A’s to walk me
back. And then I invited him up. I knew Trent would be at his desk. He rarely
took lunch out of the office. I didn't know whether it was because he was cheap
or because he always had a website to maintain.

Once
we were inside, I wrapped my arms around Trent's neck and gave him a kiss on
the cheek.

"What
are you doing?" he asked nearly jumping out of his seat.

I
laughed. "Oh he hates when I do that at work.
Jaames
,
I'd like to introduce you to my brother Trent."

"Brother?"
Jaames
said looking totally confused. "But he's
white. You mean step brother or adopted brother?"

"No.
Biological brother.
Our mother is white and our father
is black. Genes are a funny thing aren't they?"

"So
you're half white?"

I
nodded. Trent just stared at me with his classic half blank and half angry
glare. I ignored him. He'd get over it.

"I
never would have guessed you were half white with your hair texture,"
Jaames
continued.

"Well,
I am. I completely understand if you don't want to see me anymore. I mean we
all have our standards. I mean what if we had a child together like you've
planned. God forbid your thirteenth
child come
out
with blue eyes like my brother Trent here." I pet Trent on the head like
he was a cocker spaniel or something.

Trent's
eyes expanded as he stared back and forth between
Jaames
and me for a moment. I had no idea what was going on in his head, but I was
sure he would let me know later on.

"Twelfth.
It would just be my twelfth
child,"
Jaames
said as if he was contemplating
the possibility.

"Oh,
yeah, right, my bad."

"Well,
I better get going,"
Jaames
said inching his way
to the door. "Are you coming to my show tonight?"

"I
don't know. Trent, aren't we supposed to go out with mom tonight?"

Trent
squinted and scrunched up his nose as if he had just swallowed rancid sushi. I
thought sure my whole plan was blown. There was no way he was
gonna
help me out. But then he took a deep breath, shook
his head and said, "Yeah, that's right. We're having dinner together at
seven...with mom.
Our mom."
Trent rolled his eyes
as if he couldn't believe he was playing along.

"Sorry,
Jaames
.
Maybe another
time.
Call me okay?"

Jaames
gave a dismissive wave and left.

After
he was gone I let out a huge sigh of relief. Trent was staring at me again.

"Okay,
let me explain," I said preemptively.

Trent
held up his hand. "I don't even want to know."

Afro:
Do I really need to define afro? I don’t think so.

~~~

Hair
tip#14: I have found that a good old fashioned springy afro pick works best at
getting the full-on Angela Davis fro look.

~~~

"No
one is going to understand your costume," Marin said as she waddled down
the street next to me. She was seven months pregnant but wasn't going to let
that stop her from a night of partying. I didn't mind. I needed to go to this
office party and I really didn't want to do it alone. Besides, I kind of liked
partying with Marin. She was like a PG version of
Carnece
.
Just as extreme and daring but she didn't need any alcohol to make her act like
a lunatic. She was just naturally crazy and it was pretty fun to watch.

"Everyone
is going to get it. Well, at least the black people," I said in response.

"You
look like a glow worm with a sponge hat."

"And
you look like a bag lady.
A pregnant bag lady."
Marin laughed and slipped her arm through mine.

"Come
on,
let's go get our party on."

Yes,
we were in costumes, but it wasn't Halloween.
 
Mr. George, our quirky boss only allowed three office parties a year.
For each party he would randomly choose a holiday, theme, and a date. So
tonight we were celebrating Arbor Day with a costume party in September. It was
so bizarre that I refused to go alone. Marin happily volunteered.

How
exactly do you celebrate Arbor Day with a party? Apparently by decorating the
office with trees made of green construction paper and serving green drinks
while people stood around in costumes completely unrelated to trees.

"Wow,
who is that?' Marin asked as she sipped her thermos of milk that she'd brought
from home. She never trusted that the place she was going would have milk for
her. Even if they had milk, she didn't trust it to be organic. I had seen this
woman eat Roti off the floor of a food truck, but God forbid the milk not come
from grass fed cows.

"Who?"
I asked trying to follow her
line of sight. My gaze landed on a man wearing a hat and tight pants. His back
was turned to me so I couldn't tell who it was. But I honestly couldn't
remember any one in the office having a butt that amazing.

"Look
at that ass," Marin continued. "It's so tight if you pinch it you
might break a nail."

I
stared at her in shock. "Marin! You're married.
To my
brother.
And you're pregnant!"

"You
have no idea what these pregnancy hormones do to me. I'm horny
all
the time."

"Stop.
Please, stop. That is so
gross," I said holding up my hand.

"Well,
let's go meet him."

Before
I could stop her, she had started walking straight toward him. To make matters
worse, the man in tight pants turned slightly and I thought I recognized him.
For a second, I actually thought I was looking at Trent.

"Marin,
wait. What are you -" It was too late. Marin had walked up to the man and
introduced herself. When he turned around to shake her hand, I nearly tripped
over the snack table. It was Trent.

"I
don't actually work here. My sister-in-law does," she was saying by the
time I reached them.

Trent
smiled at me. I had worked with him for almost two years and I wasn’t even sure
if he had teeth. A year ago when Mr. George decided that the entire office
should go from desks to bean bags we were the only ones who refused. Since
then, we'd had desks right next to each other but that didn't mean we actually
talked or anything. In fact, I didn't know anything about him besides that he
kept money in a jar to help him stop using profanity. Now, I could add the fact
that he had a fantastic ass.

"Sweet
Mahogany, how
ya
doin
?"
he asked wrapping one arm around me in sort of a side hug. Okay, this was
weird. "Your sister-in-law is the only person in this place with any
sense," Trent said to Marin. He let me go and then held out his hand to
her again. Did he forget he already shook her hand?
 
"I'm Trent."

"Nice
to meet you," she said as Trent took a sip of his drink. That's when I
figured it out. He was drunk.
Which confused me.
Most
people got obnoxious and annoying when they drink. Alcohol seemed to have the
opposite effect on Trent. He was downright...pleasant. It was kind of
unsettling.

"Let
me guess," Marin said, looking at his costume up and down. Taking in his
black shirt unbuttoned to his navel she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Trent
beamed. He was rather attractive when he smiled. A sexy five-o'clock shadow
framed his full pink lips. I subconsciously licked my own lips wondering how my
tongue would feel against his. I hoped he didn't notice.

"Nope,"
he said holding in a drunken giggle. He pointed to a brown handprint on his
chest and to the badge on his shirt. "I'm a dirty cop." Trent fell
into uncontrollable giggles. I smiled not able to hold in a giggle myself.
 
It kind of made me happy that he was happy.

"Nice.
Nice," Marin said. I had the feeling Marin was commenting more on his
physique than on the cleverness of his costume.

"What
about you?" he asked her when he had gotten control of himself.
"What's with the stuffed animal paws? Are you some sort animal serial
killer?"

"No.
I'm pregnant and these are paws." she said pointing to a particularly odd
looking teddy bear paw. "Get it? I'm a pregnant pause."

Trent
started laughing again. "That's priceless. Love it.
Great
costume.
Although I'm not quite sure what costumes or cheap rum have to
do with Arbor Day."

"That's
exactly what Mahogany said. Isn't that right?" she asked looking at me.

Unfortunately,
I was incapable of speaking. And it wasn't only because I had just discovered
that Trent had an amazing body. I think the fact that he was able to have a
polite conversation with someone was even more shocking. He wasn't being
insulting or vulgar.

"And
what are you?" Trent asked smiling at me again. His eyes were sparkling
and warm. I started to see him in a new light.

"Um,"
I said.

"I
told her no one would get it. She's wearing shiny clothing and she has an
afro."

"Afro-sheen,"
he said immediately.

"You
know what that is?" Marin asked.

He
nodded.
"Yep."
After finishing off his
drink, he added. "I'm thirsty. Can I get you anything?"

"Um,"
I said.

"I'm
good." Marin held up her water bottle filled with milk.
"Get
Mahogany a screwdriver."

"Got
it," he said before heading to the bar.

"What
in the world was that?" I asked Marin once Trent had left.

Marin
didn't answer. She was too busy watching Trent walk away.

"Marin!"
I yelled as I smacked her on the arm. "You're a married woman!
Married to my brother."

Marin
whipped out her phone. After swiping it on and pressing a button, she said,
"Honey, time to break out the honey."

"Gross,"
I said.

"I'm
out. I
gotta
go. I need it now."

"I
really didn't need to know that.
Honey?
Seriously?"

Chugging
her milk, Marin made her way through the crowd and toward the exit.

"Crap.
She drove," I said as I watched her leave.

"What?"
Trent asked, handing me my drink.

"Oh, nothing."
Not realizing how thirsty I was,
I drank the entire screwdriver in three gulps.

"
Wanna
dance?"

"What?"

Before
I could protest, Trent swept me up into his arms and led me to the dance floor.
Or shall I say the center of the bean bag circle.

I
used to love to dance, but
Vinny
was never any good
at it so I didn't get to do it very often. If we were out together,
Vinny
never wanted to dance with me and he got extremely
jealous if I danced with anyone else. So the only time I got to get my groove
one was when I was out with my girls and that wasn't very often.

That
night, I think I lost count of how many times I was surprised by Trent. He was
an awesome dancer. He had this laid back kind of swag about him. He was able to
show off his rhythm without seeming like he was trying too hard.

He
grabbed my hand, spun me around and then kept swaying to the music. Don't ask
me what song was playing. I wouldn't be able to tell you. It was kind of fast,
kind of slow, and a lot in between.

At
first I felt awkward because there wasn't anyone else dancing...well there
could have been and I just didn't notice. Anyway, no one could be dancing
because I was positive everyone was staring at us. After the first song ended
and Trent melded into the next without missing a step, I noticed something.
People weren't staring at me, they were staring at Trent.

By
the end of the next song, I was being pushed out of the way by other girls who
wanted their turn with him.

Two
hours later, Trent was still dancing. He had only left the floor twice and that
was just to go to the bathroom. He didn't need to leave the floor to get a
drink refill. Everywhere he turned there was another girl waiting to hand him
one.

I
stood by the bar unable to take my eyes off of him. Not because I was attracted
to him or anything. In fact, I was merely starting to get a little worried for
him. After what I counted to be his sixth drink since getting on the dance
floor, I heard someone yell, "Take it off, Trent!"
Followed
by several voices chanting his name.

Trent
might not have been my favorite person in the office. Okay, honestly, most of
the time I hated his guts, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. How would he be
able to show his face at work again if he ended up stripping in front of
everyone? And we were a social media firm. Pictures of his ass would be on
Facebook before his pants hit the ground.

I
had to put an end to this. And there was only one thing I could think of that
would tear horny twenty-year-old white girls away from the prospect of a hot
guy going all "Magic Mike" on them.

"Oh my God!
Is that Taylor Swift?" I
yelled while looking out of the window. "It is. It is Taylor Swift!"

When
the girls started stampeding to the window like a bunch of drunken cattle, I
grabbed Trent by the arm and led him toward the door.

"Whoa,
hey, can you slow down?" Trent said once we made it outside. "Oh and
tell the Earth to stop spinning so fast or something." Trent giggled
uncontrollably. It was such a happy little giggle that I almost giggled as
well. But this was no time for laughter. I needed to get this man home before
he passed out. I knew I would not be strong enough to carry him.

"How
did you get here?" I asked.

"Drove."

"How
were you planning to get home?"

 
Trent started steering an imaginary wheel like
he was in a video game. He stepped off the curb and straight into oncoming
traffic.

I
pulled him out of the way and said, "Well, you're not driving anywhere.
Give me your keys."

"Yes,
ma'am," he said with a mock salute. "I would give you anything."

"Whatever,
Drunk
Boy." I snatched the keys out of his hand
and said, "Let's go."

I
didn't know where he parked so I clicked the panic button on his key chain and
followed the sound of the blaring alarm while Trent leaned on me with nearly
all of his weight on my shoulder.

"All
right, now where do you live?" I asked once we were finally in the car.
Instead of answering, Trent just started singing "Panama" by Van
Halen.

Great.
He was in no condition to tell
me where he lived. Where was I supposed to take him?

I
stared at the steering wheel as Trent serenaded me with the Kit Kat bar jingle.
I guess I had no choice but to take him to my place.