Tatiyanna's Truth

9

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Chris did take me out. It was sweet, thank god she ain't bring up the conversation.

I really didn't want to talk about it. It hurt me that my momma would even imagine me having to come back, and not finish my education. She knows how much this means to me... and I feel like it should mean more to her.

She's been poor since she was born. Telling me stories about living through multiple summers with no A/C and winters with no heat. Holes in her clothes growing up, cooking a lot of filler foods because they couldn't afford what everybody else ate. And yes her family was poor but it didn't help that her parents had 6 kids together.

She use to tell me these sad stories about her up bringing when I was a kid before my younger siblings were born. I remember being scared, having nightmares about being in the same situation as our family grew bigger and bigger. It was so stressful to me.. we didn't struggle nearly as bad as she had to but sometimes shit was hard.. I never knew when were gonna get there. I went through life barely being able to breath.. just anticipating her telling me she was pregnant again and having to stretch low income even farther.

Then finally it stopped happening. The damage was already done though, even though life wasn't super hard I was always wondering when she was going to pull me to the side and tell me we have no more money, or she can't afford to feed us, or get things she needs for us... and that's why I started doing hair. I was young as fuck doing hair out the house, making us more money.

That was my existence, doing hair, and watching my siblings. To cope I guess you could say I was a wild ass child in school. I was a class clown, I was getting in fights, I was constantly dancing and breaking out in splits. Now I really don't know if that was actually me... or me trying to over compensate for the chunks of childhood I lost.

I looked up at Chris realizing I've been day dreaming this whole time basically ignoring her while I ate.

"I wanna do my hair" I sighed. "I been avoiding this shit since we moved into the dorms but I'm ready to switch up" I said making conversation.

"Oh yea?" She smiled up at me putting down her phone. "What you tryna get done?"

She asked continuing to eat while I scrolled through my pictures and found one to show her.

"I think Im gonna do this." It was Fulani braids with the curls in the back. "But ginger like my hair"

I could tell she liked envisioning it on me. "Yea, that would be cute as fuck... what you mean you gonna do it?"

I laughed realizing I never told her I do hair.

"Yea I do hair"

I said pulling up a photo album of my work.

"Damnnn, this you? Okay. Your work is fire. How long you been doing hair?"

"Since I can remember" I said, honestly I'm proud. I was really a little ass girl standing up I my momma kitchen doing box braids and micro braids and kinky twists. I still got money in my cash app from all the hair I've done.I'll probably buy my hair with that.

"Why you ain't wanna go to cosmetology school?"

"Honestly this might sound childish... but I didn't want to give credit to anybody for teaching me a whole bunch of shit I already know." Also because Cosmetology isn't a course at a 4 year college which means I'd be stuck in that house... but I wasn't gonna tell her that.