The Deception of Ease

Shedding the illusion, strand by strand.

Yesterday, in the shower, I felt ridiculous. My hair slid through my fingers—silky, straight, perfect—and I hated it. It looked “healthy,” but it didn’t feel like mine. In that steam-filled moment, I wanted my curls back more than anything.

This morning, over breakfast, my buddy Laurren said something that summed it up: “The deception of ease.” She wasn’t even talking about hair at first, but it hit me right in the roots. Straightening my hair wasn’t about beauty—it was about control. Comfort. The illusion that easy equals better.

Except easy never told the truth. Straight hair may dry faster, style quicker, and photograph well—but it also feels hollow. It stripped away my pattern, my volume, my uniqueness. That “ease” was deception in a relaxer kit.

So, I’m undoing it—slowly, deliberately:

Back to the source. I’m transitioning with Superior Growth’s Aloe Vera line — rosemary, tea tree, avocado, and lavender oils. Found it on Etsy, and my scalp already approves.
Weekly rhythm. I rotate Protein Pouf’s Batana Palooza Strengthening Hair Masque (save 15% with code LLPP10), Olaplex’s Daily Strength & Shine Set, and Sauce Beauty’s Guacamole Whip Deep Moisture Mask for deep hydration and repair.
Everyday nourishment. Protein Pouf’s Batana Oil stays close—scalp, ends, all of it.
Detangling love. My go-to brush is the Imania Beauty Redo Detangling & Defining Hair Brush. It glides through my hair without snatching or snapping, just effortless slip and definition.
Gentle heat only. Low blow-dry using Camille Rose’s Sea Moss & Aloe Mousse and CHI Infra Silk Infusion for softness and heat protection.
Sleep care. A silk pillowcase is on the way—because cotton has been robbing me blind.
Freedom clause. No wigs, weaves, or braids. My scalp’s been clear about its boundaries.

In my twenties, I loved all that—relaxers, installs, the switch-ups. But growth asks for honesty, and my hair’s been telling me: enough pretending.

Now, I crave the patience that comes with seeing new growth peek through. The tiny curls that remind me who I was before I started chasing convenience. There’s a kind of confidence that only grows when you let things take their time—when you let them come back naturally, without force or disguise.

It’s not easy. Some days I still miss the slick look—the quick results, the fake sense of control. But then I remember what it took to keep it that way: the burns, the breakage, the scalp that never quite felt calm. My hair looked quiet on the outside because it was struggling underneath.

I’m learning that returning to natural isn’t just a hair journey—it’s a truth journey. Every wash day, every deep condition, feels like a conversation with my younger self—the one who thought beauty meant altering instead of honoring. I tell her, “We know better now.”

The deception of ease feels good until it doesn’t. Until you realize peace doesn’t come from shortcuts—it comes from patience.

So yeah, I’m back in the shower, rinsing out the lie. My curls are waiting. And this time, I’m waiting right along with them.