Tuesday, April 24, 2007

sTress

I got another haircut yesterday, my second haircut for this month, my third for this year. The other one I had barely two weeks ago wasn’t as “celebrated” as my latest one. I guess no one noticed that my hair was trimmed then. Everyone must have thought that I was just having a bad hair…umm…ahh…life.

You see, no one changes hair from something that gets by to something impossible to manage. So, if people noticed a change in my hair from April 14 to yesterday morning, their rationale would dictate, “Nahh! This girl just forgot to comb her hair!”

Even I wouldn’t have known that I had my hair trimmed if I weren’t the one who brought me to that salon one busy night. I remember how I had to fight my way through a crowd of clueless people out to collect free Regular Yum Burgers handed out by a group of traditional politician wannabes staging their most entertaining pambobola skills. They are the same group of trapo who held a motorcade during the morning rush, causing hundreds, if not thousands, of Pasigueños one tardy day at work. Let it be known that I was one of their victims.

And these trapo would like us to believe that they were born to make our lives better. Who are they kidding?

Going back to that post Friday-the-13th haircut. It was horrible! I had to wait for almost an hour before I was attended to. Twinkle, the guy who murdered my hair, wasn’t as enthusiastic with what he was doing as he ought to be. I see no passion in the way he brushes and snips.

He asked me what I wanted him to do yet he ended up deciding my new look. Before he cut his way to his preferred “do” for me, he lambasted my hair. He called it buhaghag and said it was thick like it were a bad thing. His “masterpiece” turned out exactly what I didn’t want my hair to become: long and with too much layers , making tying it in a neat ponytail impossible.

My hair was fine prior to me seeking Twinkle’s alleged expertise. It’s just that I wanted a change and I needed to keep things short.

Twinkle did not get a tip for mutilating my hair. Not because he didn’t have the aptitude for hairstyling. What he lacked was the attitude! And by holding back half of his heart from his job, he wasted my time and money, but in the process gave me a reason to get another haircut.

This time I had things the way I wanted them. And my hair? It’s short. Definitely short.

* * *

Here’s the deal, I would rather maintain the long locks, if not for the annoyingly hot weather. That is, granting that my hair will cooperate with me everyday. I’m afraid by sporting the short hairdo, I’d look this old again:



…or this…



…or this…



…or, worse, this…



When you see me, you be the judge.

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