The search for the most beautiful woman in Uganda is on. A woman with elegance, poise and the elusive ‘inner beauty.’ A tall, thin stunner with a small, but significant badonkadonk. A silver-tongued intelligent woman, capable, ambitious …
… but only if she has the longest, blackest, most plastic China-made flywhisk attached to her head.
This is my hair.
And the next woman to ask me what ‘plan’ I have for my hair will hit the floor faster than you can say, ayyii!
My hair is raw, real, beautiful combed, plated or left to its own devices. It’s hard to manage and expensive to maintain, so I don’t comb it. I call it bed head and it’s sexy. I insist.
It seems – no, it IS – redundant to blog about these fickle problems of womanhood when there are so many problems in the world; so many exciting innovations; great philosophical debate.
So help me, will you?
Rip those hideous, filthy fire hazards off the heads of Miss Uganda. Make her bleed.