Once, I had a hairdresser who said to me "I can sense, on the left side of your head, I can sense that your hair is... unhappy." Let's just say I never went back. Especially after she coloured my hair a horrible brighter-than-henna hue that was a bit too faux for my liking, and when she tried to fix it, it was worse.
It was about a week before I was going travelling to Morocco, and my friend M, I thought wouldn't notice. He is not so hair-enabled, on the girl front. However, walking through the marketplace in Essaouira, a carpet seller yells out to me:
"Hey, lady. Come to my house and my sister will henna the rest of your hair."
No, really.
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