₦airaland Forum

I'm guessing naijasinglegirl's stories are works of fiction?

Cool Story..

How can you "Wear" your natural hair?? Where was it before?? Did you removed it before?? How can you "Wear" your natural hair?? Where was it before?? Did you removed it before??

You should be listening to advice. The op may prove to be a stubborn wife when she gets married.

Nkemp:
Mate, those are my valid observation and conclusion. Am sure the whole essence of the essay or write up was for reasonable objective opinions. Am not being serious and mysterious. Am just offering a valid objective.

Valid as in which way? Trying 2 diminish som1's self confidence & comfort in her natural look? Y can't some1 attend an interview wt her natural hair? Y shldnt 9ja women b comfortable in their natural look? Just take an extra dosed chill pill.

daretodiffer:
You are a fool

Bloody bastard


It is her fvking hair. She was born with it. She has no control over it. Her hair isn't created to look straightened or covered up in dirty smelly weaves/attachments.

If you are comfortable being told that you are ugly and odd because of your kinky hair, wide nose, full lips and black skin, not everyone is. There are some of us who do not suffer from inferiority complex like your likes.

Our natural hair is designed to be plaited, twisted, dreaded etc not covered up with another person'shair

Loser!

Easy...lol.

fab

It does not make you look younger. It is just a stupid stereotype. Id..iots believe that because teens(in school) are not allowed to use weaves makes weave an exclusive adult product.

Lmao. BUT i am the landlady here na,

johnwizey:
How can u create a topic and still be the FTC Don't be a wayo

Muyiii:
Easy...lol.

I am not going to take it easy with the loser

My hair is too short to be packed into one or two or three or four .

SailorXY:
Whatever happened to combing your hair & packing it properly.

I will update the post on my blog with a photo of my hair soon.

Ujuhot:
Lol.. Please show us the hair

She grew up Sir. ''Who funny help?"

Kayoski:
gud write up...



But seriously op where is the naijasinglegirl we used to know ??..


The story started wella but the end was just off..


anyways fiction writing no easy sha..

gud write up though..

...good for you.

Nkemp:
Truth is: I think you very confortable being unemployed. D saying goes that. When you in Rome act like a roman. In d career world. There's a professional look to every occupation. If I was an employer, I won't employ you. Am sure you very stuborn and always refusing to heed to advice and instruction. Thank God we in the Era of change, so please change.

The idiots (if they are Africans) that liked your post do not deserve to be alive.

You prefer your white master's hair to your mother's hair. I hope you are planning to marry a white woman. Any black woman that is willing to subscribe to your BS must be mentally deranged.

I never gt my twist out right to. When I unravel the twist... no words to describe it

Lol...so funny. I love your write up, makes me want to see the hair true true. Really nice OP. Was having a bad morning but you got a first genuine laugh from me today. Tnx

Naijasinglegirl:
I will update the post on my blog with a photo of my hair soon.

Can't wait

Naijasinglegirl:
I know I am too old for this but FT... lol

Don't forget to always visit my blog at http://www.naijasinglegirl.com

I think you're better off without a job ...your stories give me poetic pleasure.

Naijasinglegirl:
A friend spoke to her mum concerning my unemployed status and the mum promised to look into my matter.
Recently, she called one evening to inform me her mum asked that I come to her office the following day with my résumé and two passport photographs. My friend also said, “Please dress very well. You know my mum can worry,”
After ransacking my wardrobe in search of the perfect office wear, I sighed in exasperation when I stood in front of a mirror.
You see, I have been indoors for a while and at ease, rocking ‘didi’ in my natural hair since I’ve had nowhere important to go. My didi makes me look like a 15 year old and there is no way I want to look like a 15 year old when I’m out to look for my Chevron job. I quickly loosened my hair and all I was left with was a confused looking afro.
I had discarded the last of my worn-out wigs some weeks back and I was completely disoriented on what to with my hair as I had only a night to get ready. I proceeded to do what they call twistouts, my first twistouts as a naturalista before going to bed.

Next morning, after getting dressed, my heart was pounding wildly as I unravelled my twists. I don’t have the right words to describe how my hair looked when I was done. I was tempted to compare it with twistouts photos on Instagram but I held on to the conviction that what you don’t know won’t kill you and the only way I could get away with the thing on my head was to rock it with an arrogant confidence.

As I walked out of my estate, a white infinity with slightly tinted windows pulled up at a sharp bend beside me and a male voice said,”Hello, excuse me.”
Thinking Mr Right has finally found me, I stopped only for the guy to say a woman hawking bread is coming that I should please wait and help her offload her bread when she comes. Truly, there was a woman hurrying towards his car with agege bread on her head but when I peeped into the vehicle, there was a lady wearing a long Brazilian hair, his girlfriend maybe, fiddling with a Samsung phone.
She didn’t even raise her head to say good morning to a single girl. I was so infuriated!

“You think you people are the only ones that feel like eating agege bread? Is it because I am not wearing human hair that’s why you can’t tell her to get down to help the bread lady or both of you don’t have two hands. Rubbish!” I said.
The guy stared dumbfounded as I walked away.

In the bus to Obalende, I sat on the middle of the second row and eyed everybody behind who stared at my hair from the mirrors. The conductor with his unhealthy mohawk dreads said “Fine girl, this your hairstyle resemble my own.”
“God forbid bad thing.” I cursed.

As I pulled out my wallet to pay my fare, it dawned on me I had no passport. Luckily, I located a small photograph studio by the bus stop at Obalende. The operator, after promising me he was the next best thing after Kelechi Amadi Obi took me the most ugly set of photographs. I know passports are naturally ugly but the ugliness of my photo on the computer screen was beyond comprehension. When I complained as he was about printing them, he said, “But na your hair make it dey so. I snap wetin I see.”
I just pretended to answer a fake phone call and sneaked out of the building so I wouldn’t pay.

On arriving the office, my friend’s mum handed me an address of a recruitment agency in Broad Street and said the manager was her friend, that I drop my CV with her. Then she said “My dear, this your hair sef. I hope she judges your appearance based on what she sees on your passport.”
That was when I told her I forgot my passport. She said I am an unserious person. Then she took out a turban from her bag and I thought she wanted to give it to me but she shocked me by taking off the horrible looking foul nyash wig from her head and replacing it with a turban.
“Wear this wig to take a passport and make sure you bring it back to me on your way from Broad street.” she said. I put the wig in my bag with the promise to wear it once I get to the studio.

My high point of the day came when I was about crossing a road to take a keke. An afro-naturalista at the backseat of a passing vehicle screamed, “I LOVE YOUR HAIR, GIRL.”
When I heard that, my confidence was restored and I resolved not to wear the wig.

I found a 2-min photography booth at Broad Street. This one was run by a lady. I got seated and was reapplying my powder peacefully when the lady came close to me with her cheap camera and a small tooth comb. She told me to bend my head.
“Meaning what? Who sent you to comb my twistouts?” I shouted. “Don’t you know this is the style? Do you know how many people have told me I LOVE YOUR HAIR?”
“Ejo e ma binu. It’s for your own good.” she said as she withdrew.
“Thank you but it’s not your head! Just do the work I’m paying you for please.” I said.
I got my very ugly passports and went to the recruitment office.

The recruitment agent, a soft spoken lady, refused to take her eyes off my hair as she asked me series of questions, based on the information on my CV. When the interview was finally over, she said, ”You are smart but my major concern in recommending you to a potential employer is this your hair. I’m going to call you back in a few weeks for another assessment. Please try to make your hair then. I know money is hard to come by when you have no job but if you can’t afford that, you can even go natural. I heard that’s what is in vogue.”

But I thought my hair is natural?


http://naijasinglegirl.com/i-wore-my-natural-hair-to-look-for-a-job-and-this-is-what-happened/

if only you can upload the a pix of the "twisted hair"


good story telling though

GWAHAHAHAHHAHAHA....... SORRY BUT THUMBS UP

nice write up,,far frm real life,,so much lies embedded in it

Atk01:
This Naijasinglegirl and her natural hair wahala!

is dat ur natural hair via dp

Nkemp:
Truth is: I think you very confortable being unemployed. D saying goes that. When you in Rome act like a roman. In d career world. There's a professional look to every occupation. If I was an employer, I won't employ you. Am sure you very stuborn and always refusing to heed to advice and instruction. Thank God we in the Era of change, so please change.

Its unfortunate that you will shamelessly pick a lady that wears what is not hers because its professionally acceptable. what happened to natural hair? you go to church( most definitely) yet the same god you worship that created such hair you a human will want to change it because of a foreign acceptable idea of professionalism

the period this slave mentality will cease to exist in this part of the world will be the day hell freezes over.

you aught to be ashamed of yourself African hypocrite.

Naijasinglegirl:
A friend spoke to her mum concerning my unemployed status and the mum promised to look into my matter.
Recently, she called one evening to inform me her mum asked that I come to her office the following day with my résumé and two passport photographs. My friend also said, “Please dress very well. You know my mum can worry,”
After ransacking my wardrobe in search of the perfect office wear, I sighed in exasperation when I stood in front of a mirror.
You see, I have been indoors for a while and at ease, rocking ‘didi’ in my natural hair since I’ve had nowhere important to go. My didi makes me look like a 15 year old and there is no way I want to look like a 15 year old when I’m out to look for my Chevron job. I quickly loosened my hair and all I was left with was a confused looking afro.
I had discarded the last of my worn-out wigs some weeks back and I was completely disoriented on what to with my hair as I had only a night to get ready. I proceeded to do what they call twistouts, my first twistouts as a naturalista before going to bed.

Next morning, after getting dressed, my heart was pounding wildly as I unravelled my twists. I don’t have the right words to describe how my hair looked when I was done. I was tempted to compare it with twistouts photos on Instagram but I held on to the conviction that what you don’t know won’t kill you and the only way I could get away with the thing on my head was to rock it with an arrogant confidence.

As I walked out of my estate, a white infinity with slightly tinted windows pulled up at a sharp bend beside me and a male voice said,”Hello, excuse me.”
Thinking Mr Right has finally found me, I stopped only for the guy to say a woman hawking bread is coming that I should please wait and help her offload her bread when she comes. Truly, there was a woman hurrying towards his car with agege bread on her head but when I peeped into the vehicle, there was a lady wearing a long Brazilian hair, his girlfriend maybe, fiddling with a Samsung phone.
She didn’t even raise her head to say good morning to a single girl. I was so infuriated!

“You think you people are the only ones that feel like eating agege bread? Is it because I am not wearing human hair that’s why you can’t tell her to get down to help the bread lady or both of you don’t have two hands. Rubbish!” I said.
The guy stared dumbfounded as I walked away.

In the bus to Obalende, I sat on the middle of the second row and eyed everybody behind who stared at my hair from the mirrors. The conductor with his unhealthy mohawk dreads said “Fine girl, this your hairstyle resemble my own.”
“God forbid bad thing.” I cursed.

As I pulled out my wallet to pay my fare, it dawned on me I had no passport. Luckily, I located a small photograph studio by the bus stop at Obalende. The operator, after promising me he was the next best thing after Kelechi Amadi Obi took me the most ugly set of photographs. I know passports are naturally ugly but the ugliness of my photo on the computer screen was beyond comprehension. When I complained as he was about printing them, he said, “But na your hair make it dey so. I snap wetin I see.”
I just pretended to answer a fake phone call and sneaked out of the building so I wouldn’t pay.

On arriving the office, my friend’s mum handed me an address of a recruitment agency in Broad Street and said the manager was her friend, that I drop my CV with her. Then she said “My dear, this your hair sef. I hope she judges your appearance based on what she sees on your passport.”
That was when I told her I forgot my passport. She said I am an unserious person. Then she took out a turban from her bag and I thought she wanted to give it to me but she shocked me by taking off the horrible looking foul nyash wig from her head and replacing it with a turban.
“Wear this wig to take a passport and make sure you bring it back to me on your way from Broad street.” she said. I put the wig in my bag with the promise to wear it once I get to the studio.

My high point of the day came when I was about crossing a road to take a keke. An afro-naturalista at the backseat of a passing vehicle screamed, “I LOVE YOUR HAIR, GIRL.”
When I heard that, my confidence was restored and I resolved not to wear the wig.

I found a 2-min photography booth at Broad Street. This one was run by a lady. I got seated and was reapplying my powder peacefully when the lady came close to me with her cheap camera and a small tooth comb. She told me to bend my head.
“Meaning what? Who sent you to comb my twistouts?” I shouted. “Don’t you know this is the style? Do you know how many people have told me I LOVE YOUR HAIR?”
“Ejo e ma binu. It’s for your own good.” she said as she withdrew.
“Thank you but it’s not your head! Just do the work I’m paying you for please.” I said.
I got my very ugly passports and went to the recruitment office.

The recruitment agent, a soft spoken lady, refused to take her eyes off my hair as she asked me series of questions, based on the information on my CV. When the interview was finally over, she said, ”You are smart but my major concern in recommending you to a potential employer is this your hair. I’m going to call you back in a few weeks for another assessment. Please try to make your hair then. I know money is hard to come by when you have no job but if you can’t afford that, you can even go natural. I heard that’s what is in vogue.”

But I thought my hair is natural?


http://naijasinglegirl.com/i-wore-my-natural-hair-to-look-for-a-job-and-this-is-what-happened/

You people won't kill someone!

OP post pic na

Picture.

See how you got me glued to this long sermon without picture to show my eyes

dania30:
Naijasinglegirl always gives me a good laugh I never get disappointed reading your stories. I am shamelessly ur fan

That girl can make person forget em sorrow. Quite a while Dania.