It all began because of a chemical burn from a home perm. The year was 1996. Up until then, I’d considered myself quite the kitchen beautician, purchasing box perms to do my own hair since college. In those lean college times, I couldn’t afford to go to the hair dresser, I’d go to Wal-Mart, pick up a relaxer kit, go back to the dorm and proceed to slather the white, noxious, cream on the base of my hair, careful not to get any, or at least not too much on my scalp or cover the entire shaft of my hair. After college, I continued this practice, when my coins were a little short.
But the last time was different.