Crochets from Hell

A few years ago, I got the idea to get some crochet twists. My hair was red at the time and I was totally ready to try something new. My nail lady had a station inside a hair shop, and she gave me a flyer for a braider who was new to the shop. I asked the braider if she knew how to do crochet braids and she said yes. I should have asked for some pics because this is where I went wrong. There was some concern because I never saw any pics of her crochet work, but I was in a rush because I had to travel for my job.

When I arrived for my appointment everything was normal. We really had a nice conversation and she seemed like good people. We shared thoughts and opinions about everything under the sun and once she was done, I looked in the mirror and I liked what I saw. It wasn’t perfect, but it was cute, and I was initially satisfied. She made the braids underneath straight back cornrows, so the parts were showing a bit. When I brought this to her attention, she simply said, “Oh, you just gotta tussle them.” When I got home it didn’t matter how much I “tussled” them the straight back parts were still showing through the crochets.

Pretty much the next day the cornrows underneath started unraveling risking the crouches falling off. I notified the braider and she said to come back to the shop. I ended up going back two times to fix the same problem. The second time she decided to fold up and sew the ends of the cornrows so they wouldn’t unravel. I went on my business trip with my crochets and once my work was done in LA, I caught up with my BFF to celebrate her birthday. My bae took the train to come turn up with us as well. After an epic night on a party bus through Hollywood, I went to the garment district for a shopping spree the next day and ended my trip with taking a walk down memory lane near my old condo in Playa Vista, CA.

Took a flight from LAX to Oakland International and got picked up by my cousins and before they dropped me off at home we stopped at Nations for a burger. I got home late and when I woke up the next morning I looked outside my window and what did I see in front of my garage? My red crochet twist! I couldn’t help but think if I was leaving a trail of them behind, at the airport, my corporate office, the party bus, Nations…who knows?! I was mortified. Immediately I look a pic of the twist from my window and sent it to the stylist. I asked when she could get me in for a take down. By this time the crotchets weren’t even in for a week. She tried to convince me to keep them longer and come in again to fix them but by this time I was like fuck it and took them down myself. The only thing I regret is not asking for my money back but, needless to say, I was never a repeat customer. I will never forget those crochets from hell.

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