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Shaheta Pickett
Working in a beauty shop is not what it's all cracked up to be. It's a different kind of world and if you don't have the skin to endure it then you have another thing coming. There are some perks such as money, but what happens when you trade the integrity of your soul and your last breath for a green dollar. The one that is never held long enough to notice the dead man on the front of it. You work then you get addicted to Lord knows what. You lust then you fall in love with men, woman or both. Well let me introduce myself. My name is Lacey Morgan; I'm twenty-four years old but a spirit of a forty-five year old woman. My frame is 5'10. Black as night and built like a shit brick house. My hair is long as a train and that includes no tracks of course. No one really liked me at my place of work. They all classified me as stuck up, even the gay guy Tyrone. At the time he just wanted to be me and but I hated them all. I was very reserved and had other things on my mind. That was something that they couldn't understand.
My job as a nail tech seemed easy from the outside but only the flies on the walls could tell you about the demons that lie behind the glass block windows of a typical beauty shop. There was one in particular "Ronnies Hair and Nail Clothing Boutique." What a name? Those are the results of my people trying to have eight different businesses under one roof and not allowing the others to grow. But you can't tell a greedy land lord that. Ronnies' is where I made my daily bread while struggling to maintain clientele and watching my back at all cost with a razor blade in the cut of my black boots. It was torture, hell, fear. I just wanted to scream. I wanted out. I wanted my parents. I had dreams, goals and ambitions, but they all seemed so far away….
When I looked in my mirror next to my work station, I saw a beautiful black girl that searched for answers daily. Answers that no one had but God. The environment that I consumed was a false one. The clients, the crowd and the phasode that we all had on was a front. No one knows what goes on in the world of beauty. There was not enough makeup to hide the scars, the lies, the drugs and men that crawl from underneath the cracks of the doors nightly. We hid from our landlord Ronnie that seemed to live his life as a retired pimp. His face looked familiar, but I could never pin point where I knew him from. It was just a blurry memory. It was just a destined future for failure. No taxes were being paid on the money that we made. From a clients view we were perfect. We were rich we were their counselors and confidants, but my question to the world not the world that I and many others tend to live in but the people in my beauty shop world, who do we confide in? We needed to confess too. Was there a pot at the end of the rainbow and if so was it full? My mom's life was over, my father's life was unknown, but one day I'll have someone to go home to. Anyhow that was the just of me, Lacey Morgan. You think you know, but you have no idea what goes on behind the glass block windows of a typical beauty shop. Ronnie's Hair and Nail Clothing Boutique is something unheard of. Be careful not to burn your hands on the pages of the lives of my co-workers. There are seven co-workers, four funerals, two personalities, and one life to live or save. I too have a beauty shop confession and I want to tell it all story by story, line by line. I'll begin with Trudy the nail tech…
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Working in a beauty shop is not what it's all cracked up to be. It's a different kind of world and if you don't have the skin to endure it then you have another thing coming. There are some perks such as money, but what happens when you trade the integrity of your soul and your last breath for a green dollar. The one that is never held long enough to notice the dead man on the front of it. You work then you get addicted to Lord knows what. You lust then you fall in love with men, woman or both. Well let me introduce myself. My name is Lacey Morgan; I'm twenty-four years old but a spirit of a forty-five year old woman. My frame is 5'10. Black as night and built like a shit brick house. My hair is long as a train and that includes no tracks of course. No one really liked me at my place of work. They all classified me as stuck up, even the gay guy Tyrone. At the time he just wanted to be me and but I hated them all. I was very reserved and had other things on my mind. That was something that they couldn't understand.
My job as a nail tech seemed easy from the outside but only the flies on the walls could tell you about the demons that lie behind the glass block windows of a typical beauty shop. There was one in particular "Ronnies Hair and Nail Clothing Boutique." What a name? Those are the results of my people trying to have eight different businesses under one roof and not allowing the others to grow. But you can't tell a greedy land lord that. Ronnies' is where I made my daily bread while struggling to maintain clientele and watching my back at all cost with a razor blade in the cut of my black boots. It was torture, hell, fear. I just wanted to scream. I wanted out. I wanted my parents. I had dreams, goals and ambitions, but they all seemed so far away….
When I looked in my mirror next to my work station, I saw a beautiful black girl that searched for answers daily. Answers that no one had but God. The environment that I consumed was a false one. The clients, the crowd and the phasode that we all had on was a front. No one knows what goes on in the world of beauty. There was not enough makeup to hide the scars, the lies, the drugs and men that crawl from underneath the cracks of the doors nightly. We hid from our landlord Ronnie that seemed to live his life as a retired pimp. His face looked familiar, but I could never pin point where I knew him from. It was just a blurry memory. It was just a destined future for failure. No taxes were being paid on the money that we made. From a clients view we were perfect. We were rich we were their counselors and confidants, but my question to the world not the world that I and many others tend to live in but the people in my beauty shop world, who do we confide in? We needed to confess too. Was there a pot at the end of the rainbow and if so was it full? My mom's life was over, my father's life was unknown, but one day I'll have someone to go home to. Anyhow that was the just of me, Lacey Morgan. You think you know, but you have no idea what goes on behind the glass block windows of a typical beauty shop. Ronnie's Hair and Nail Clothing Boutique is something unheard of. Be careful not to burn your hands on the pages of the lives of my co-workers. There are seven co-workers, four funerals, two personalities, and one life to live or save. I too have a beauty shop confession and I want to tell it all story by story, line by line. I'll begin with Trudy the nail tech…
shaheta pickett myspace
Working in a beauty shop is not what it's all cracked up to be. It's a different kind of world and if you don't have the skin to endure it then you have another thing coming. There are some perks such as money, but what happens when you trade the integrity of your soul and your last breath for a green dollar. The one that is never held long enough to notice the dead man on the front of it. You work then you get addicted to Lord knows what. You lust then you fall in love with men, woman or both. Well let me introduce myself. My name is Lacey Morgan; I'm twenty-four years old but a spirit of a forty-five year old woman. My frame is 5'10. Black as night and built like a shit brick house. My hair is long as a train and that includes no tracks of course. No one really liked me at my place of work. They all classified me as stuck up, even the gay guy Tyrone. At the time he just wanted to be me and but I hated them all. I was very reserved and had other things on my mind. That was something that they couldn't understand.
My job as a nail tech seemed easy from the outside but only the flies on the walls could tell you about the demons that lie behind the glass block windows of a typical beauty shop. There was one in particular "Ronnies Hair and Nail Clothing Boutique." What a name? Those are the results of my people trying to have eight different businesses under one roof and not allowing the others to grow. But you can't tell a greedy land lord that. Ronnies' is where I made my daily bread while struggling to maintain clientele and watching my back at all cost with a razor blade in the cut of my black boots. It was torture, hell, fear. I just wanted to scream. I wanted out. I wanted my parents. I had dreams, goals and ambitions, but they all seemed so far away….
When I looked in my mirror next to my work station, I saw a beautiful black girl that searched for answers daily. Answers that no one had but God. The environment that I consumed was a false one. The clients, the crowd and the phasode that we all had on was a front. No one knows what goes on in the world of beauty. There was not enough makeup to hide the scars, the lies, the drugs and men that crawl from underneath the cracks of the doors nightly. We hid from our landlord Ronnie that seemed to live his life as a retired pimp. His face looked familiar, but I could never pin point where I knew him from. It was just a blurry memory. It was just a destined future for failure. No taxes were being paid on the money that we made. From a clients view we were perfect. We were rich we were their counselors and confidants, but my question to the world not the world that I and many others tend to live in but the people in my beauty shop world, who do we confide in? We needed to confess too. Was there a pot at the end of the rainbow and if so was it full? My mom's life was over, my father's life was unknown, but one day I'll have someone to go home to. Anyhow that was the just of me, Lacey Morgan. You think you know, but you have no idea what goes on behind the glass block windows of a typical beauty shop. Ronnie's Hair and Nail Clothing Boutique is something unheard of. Be careful not to burn your hands on the pages of the lives of my co-workers. There are seven co-workers, four funerals, two personalities, and one life to live or save. I too have a beauty shop confession and I want to tell it all story by story, line by line. I'll begin with Trudy the nail tech…
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