And I'm Not Sorry

Becoming Madonna the Dominatrix for Diabolina's birthday party was no easy task, nor was de-Madonna-izing, so I thought it merited a separate documentary post.

Again, for those of you who don't know the "Human Nature" video, feast your eyes on this:



We begin at Escape Salon (185 E. Glenarm Street, Pasadena), where the owner Sandra, a referral from Jared at my local Salon Eleven, took me under her wing.

Let the transformation begin!

Sandra was very accommodating about my capturing the metamorphosis. Lucky for me, my friend R, who happened to be in the area for her friend's barbecue, was so amused by the thought of my getting cornrows that she stopped by and helped me take pictures!

These pictures are all R's fine work. I wish Mr. Monkey were as good as she is.

Behold the oodles of synthetic hair that was braided into my own hair.

The big fat cornrows take form. Did they hurt? Only the ones on the side. Sandra gave me props for being so still.



After the braids were done, Sandra dipped them into scalding hot water to seal them. Since I was only going to wear them one night, there wasn't a need to burn them at the ends.

R and I stand in my cornrowed triumph.

Here's a look from the back.

I went to Diabolina's party a few hours later. My Allen Iverson 'do was a hit. People marveled.

When I got home, I considered sleeping in my cornrows. They smelled a little funny and were sort of greasy. It was 2:30 a.m. But they had to come out. My head kind of hurt. A few hours of braids were more than enough for me.

I meticulously unraveled each braid, plait by plait. It wasn't that hard, but it took awhile because I had to be careful not to get all the synthetic hair tangled. Here I am halfway through. I don't know why I'm smiling at 3:00 a.m.

All the braids are out!

That's a lot of fake hair.

And, after a shower, I am back to normal.

With a little help from some aspirin, my head feels a whole lot better now.