I consider myself lucky when it comes to the salon I currently go to. After months and months of searching, I finally found one within 30 minutes of my house. And to understand why that’s an accomplishment, you have to know the area I live in.
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Sure, I may be an hour and some change away from D.C., but in my neck of the woods, I’m literally in the woods. On a mountain. On a lake. With bears. And there aren’t too many black people around, let alone a black salon or barber.
Before I found my current salon, I’d have to drive almost an hour, or even two hours, depending on which loctician I wanted to visit. But wait. When I got there … there was always some f—ks—t going on.
Lateness.
Lateness.
Lateness.
“Hey, don’t pull my hair too hard, please.”
“Um, can you at least make my parts look neat?”
“I told you I’m allergic to shea!”
These were the common issues I had to deal with before I found heaven. My current stylist is prompt, fast and and listens to which products I can use, and doesn’t charge an arm and a leg.
But if you take a look at #blacksalonproblems, it’s not only relatable but downright hilarious!
Pure comedy and some of the realest stuff ever.
Straight From 
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