The Confessions of a Struggling Diva: Lace 1, Sanity 0

Listen, let’s get one thing straight before we even dive into this tragedy: I am a diva, a 5-star chick, all that and a bag of chips, and don't forget my milkshake brings the boys to the yard!! I love to look good, I live to look good, and frankly, I feel like y'all expect that of me. It’s a burden, really.... Being this fabulous, but someone has to set the standard.

If you know me, you know my hair has more personalities than a daytime soap opera. I’ve gone from "Rapunzel in the city" to "Executive Baldie" at least six times in my life. Right now? I’m in a "growing it out" phase. Don’t ask me why! I don’t have the answers. By nature at this point, I don't want to have to do a lot with my hair... And yet, here I am, trying to reach for length like I haven’t learned my lesson five times already.

In this current transition, I’ve done it all. I’ve had the braids (too heavy), the twist-outs (too much work), and now? Now we have arrived at the sew-in with a Lace Front Closure.

The Audacity of Mesh

Let’s be real: I am fine-fine. Don’t let the size fool you; I take immense pride in this vessel. I moisturize, I accessorize, and I exercise my right to be the baddest in the room. (And I should be exercising in the gym, but that's a story for another time!) But these lace fronts? They can go ahead and take a permanent seat directly under the devil’s ass!!

Who—and I mean who—has the actual, literal, chronological time to be gluing mesh to their forehead every single morning? I’m 45 years old. I’m a single mother of three. My "morning routine" usually involves negotiating with a teenager, finding a missing shoe, and wondering if I can make it to actual lunchtime before eating my lunch. I do not have a spare 45 minutes to "melt" anything unless it’s cheese on a sandwich.

I can't live my life! It's a frontal, so it doesn't come all the way down to the ears. At the back of my mind was the constant fear that if somebody got too close, they would see a flap of beige mesh waving in the wind like a white flag of surrender. Or the edges rolled up like sleeves. I spent many hours in the bathroom with a damp paper towel and a prayer, trying to press that lace back into my skin with the force of a thousand suns.

The lace treats me like garbage, embarrasses me in front of high-quality men, and takes all my money—and yet, here I am, scrolling through TikTok looking for a "stronger waterproof bond."

The "Elastic Band" Lie

Now, I know what the YouTube girls and the "Hair Influencers" are going to say. "Girl, just melt it with the spray and tie it down with the elastic melt band every night! It stays for weeks!"

Kiss my ass! All of them.

First of all, I’m barely tying the actual hair up at night. I’m lucky if I remember my satin bonnet before I pass out from exhaustion. You really think I’m going to wrap a tight-ass elastic band around my skull like a professional wrestler every night? I already have rent, utilities, Afterpay, groceries.. you get it; I don’t need a self-induced tension headache to match.

So, naturally, I pull it up. Every. Single. Night. I treat that wig like a hat. And every morning, it’s a battle of the wits. I’m out here looking like I have a skin condition because the glue didn’t clear, or worse, the lace is lifting in the front like a convertible top on a sunny day.

The Struggle is (Too) Real

There is nothing—and I mean nothing—more humbling than being a high-tier diva in a high-stakes meeting, feeling a slight breeze, and realizing your "hairline" just migrated two inches toward your eyebrows. IKYFL! Or lifting my eyebrow and feeling the lace give at the corners.

• The Glue: Sticky. Treacherous. Why is it on my bathroom counter? Why is it in my eyebrow? Why is the hair stuck to the lace???????

• The Tint: I bought "Medium Brown," so why does my forehead look like it’s been dusted with Cheeto powder? Then I ditched it and went for concealer and it just looks like mud!

• The Wind: Now this mofo is my greatest natural enemy. One gust and I’m holding my scalp on like a Victorian lady clutching her bonnet in a hurricane.

• The Crunch: Did I mention my lace be crunchy???????????

  
  

A Plea for Sanity

I refuse (your read that right!) to believe that in the year of our Lord, 2026, the only way to be "fly" is to perform daily surgical procedures on my forehead. I know that my hair is only 2 - 8 inches in the front, with blond edges but give me some leave out. I’m a grown woman. I have children to raise and a life to lead. I shouldn't need a degree in chemical engineering and the patience of a saint just to have a side part.

And let's not forget to mention how I can't get through the lace to scratch my head. Y'all know I FLAT OUT REFUSE to pat my head like a damn monkey. I'm all for trends, but I know y'all will talk if I just cut the frontal off and wear the rest of the sew in for a couple of months.

There has to be another way. Whether it’s going back to the blonde buzz cut or finding a wig that just snaps on like a Lego piece, something has to give. Because as much as I love the look, this lace front is currently winning the war, and I’m about two days away from throwing the whole unit into the trash and letting my natural curls scream at the sun.

Stay fly, ladies... but bring back leave outs and invisible parts!!