Do You Care What He Thinks? Should You?

Took time out if editing The Belle Book last night to tinker around the gossip sites. Sue me. They make me laugh. Over on Necole Bitchie I found a link to the article “Why A Change To Your Appearance Might Mean The End Of You And Your Boo” by LJ Knight.  CLICK HERE FOR FULL STORY.

Seems Amerie’s ungodly hair change from black to platinum blonde struck a nerve. His first observation? “I hate it. That cheapens her look.” His second? “I wonder what her fiancé thinks about it.”

Knight explains:

Men tend to be creatures of habit more so than women. They do not crave change as much. The idea of mixing things up for excitement is frightening to them, especially if they are already pleased with the current status.

When a man meets you, he sees the image you portray. Then, he decides whether or not he will accept it. If you alter that image, especially without forewarning him, then it’s like you lied or gave false advertisement.  This may lead to him being unable to see you in the same way that he once did.  Is this superficial? Perhaps. Nonetheless, this is how many men think.

Should your man be a part of your choices when it comes to your physical appearance? Some women think their man plays no role in the changes they make with their look… Or they are thinking that they should be able to do whatever the hell they want to themselves and their man’s opinion about it is not the deciding factor. I agree that you do have this right. However, we all know that in real life things do not always go down like that. So, let’s just keep it real.


Anybody who follows me on Twitter knows I’ve been wanting to shave my head for a few months now. The only reason I won’t is because 1) the streak is a trademark; and 2) I look better with hair. Oh and 3) when I ran the idea across CBW months ago at the height of my “I got to cut this!” hysteria, he looked at me blankly and said kindly, “No, B, I didn’t sign up for Amber Rose.” Then he ruffled my hair. So I kept growing the middle and kept shaving the sides. *


Do you know how I ended up with hair? I had a Caesar for the fifth or sixth time in my life back in early 2009. I shaved stars and hearts in it, depending on how I was feeling, and I got it buzzed every weekend for kicks. I had a BF. B… Remember B? One day, very nicely, he said, “why don’t you grow your hair out a bit?” I’d like to play in it.” Then he rubbed my head and kissed my nose. So I grew hair... and when it was long enough, I stopped cutting designs in the side and dyed the front tip blonde for more kicks.

He hated the blonde.

I loved it. So it stayed.

I thought about cutting my hair when we went our separate ways. But by then I liked doing it and dyeing it and playing in it and The Streak was "my thing." So it stayed.






*a couple weeks later, he went through my pic box and saw flicks of me with a blonde Caesar and gave his permission— as if I was waiting on it— for me to cut it.