Do you know what I, just, love? When people give me their opinions of my appearance as if my sole purpose on Earth is be sure that the way I look pleases their personal preferences. I. Just. Love. That.

Recently I decided to change my hair and, if you're a 4c natural girl like me, you probably understand how much will-power that takes. It took me about three weeks to pick a new protective style, one week to convince myself to take my twists down and another hour or so to actually start co-washing. Taming this hair is like trying to make friends with a female lion: you'll leave disappointed and probably with four or five less fingers.

But, I digress.

Finding a style I love...the first time...is something that doesn't happen often for me (I once spent six hours putting box braids in my own head and I hated them so much that I took them down and re-did them the next day), so when I find a style I love (or even just like) I stick with it for a while until I'm up for new, possibly tragic, adventures in finding a new hair-do. This past adventure, thanks be to God and his heavenly host, wasn't so tragic. I love my hair now. It's big, it's blonde and above all: it's low-maintenance.

So, of course, you can imagine my surprise when someone saw me on Snapchat with my new hair and decided to drop some "helpful" opinions about how I "could have rocked it."

They proceeded to let me know that if I ever wanted to try the style again, that I should contact them first, so that they could "walk me through it for the best results."

I'm not one to be petty...well, I'm not one to be immediately petty upon first encounters with people like this (you know, those people who think that we're all waiting, thirsty, by the bayside for them to drop their golden turd of an opinion so that we can get on with our lives knowing that...they like us) but, I just couldn't resist. I thanked them and asked for their number so that every day I could text them pictures of my outfit, makeup, and hairstyle to be sure that they were all up to their standards and liking. I ended the message with many, many, cow and poop-swirl emojis just in case they didn't taste the sarcasm my message was dripping with.

Now, don't get me wrong, constructive criticism is what I live for: I am always looking to be a better me. But I'm not, and never will be, looking to be a better me for you. The decisions I make about my appearance whether it be my clothes, hair, shoes, makeup, and even the upkeep of my physical body will never be for anyone other than myself and Chance the Rapper. I mean, you gotta keep hubs happy. But, even then, if I love the way I look...I really don't care what anyone else thinks; not even Chance (*gasp*). Sorry Chance.

So, the next time you want to drop a golden turd of opinion on anyone else's appearance or choices in general, find out if that person is truly happy with who they are and how they look. If the answer is yes, then you can keep the turd, free of charge.