On hair

Have I written something on hair before? When one reaches the grand old age of almost thirty, it gets easier to be a little absent-minded, I guess.

I had my hair cut- again. This was the third time in two months. The event inspired me to analyse my character and I ended up hating myself.

I had my long hair drastically bobbed to just below the ears a couple of years back and I have been trying to grow it back ever since, because, no joke, short hair is more high-maintenance than long hair. But instead of waiting patiently for it to grow back, I became impatient for change.

Me a few months back

So I dyed it jet-black.
Then I decided that I wanted a pixie cut.
So i had one.
waited a bit, then when my hair became a little longer, I started to look like Liu Kang from Mortal Kombat. Yes, I really did.



When hair reaches that 'laklawh' stage of either awkwardly curling out or under when it reaches one's shoulders, the only thing one can do is to tie it back or keep it in a bun. A friend suggested I straighten my hair so that I'd no longer have north-east-west-south hair. So I had it straightened. Then I found out that jet-black poker straight hair makes me look like Professor Snape.

Still primping, though.

So I went to get my hair colored a bright red, but the folks at the parlour told me that I needed to pre-lighten my hair so that the new colour could stick. Consequence of the treatment- bright red hair achieved. Stretchy, falling hair also achieved. Also, a disapproving look was earned from our Sunday School Superintendent. Had my hair colored again to a subdued "shows only under direct light" red. Then I had to get the ends of my hair trimmed because all the work I had done on it had given me split ends.

Lesson learnt, I diligently started to grow out my hair, and had it coloured just three times. Nothing drastic though. I just like the feeling of having something done to my hair. And as my hair grew, I resolved to not do anything to it anymore. I did try a different parting, but someone said I looked like L-Ray, a guy who sings. So I went back to my old parting.

A couple of months, it reached shoulder length, but the colour had started to fade. I determinedly kept from colouring it gaain, but succumbed when a friend asked if she could trim the ends. No major changes, whew.

Then I accompanied a friend who needed to get her eyebrows threaded, and at the sight of the combs, sciscorrs (blanked on the spelling, spell check suggested 'Francisco', wth?) scissors and hair products, I felt again the uncontrollable urge to have something done with my hair. The stylist suggested some feathers, and it sounded nice, so I said yes. The cut she gave me, plus my faded red hair colour made me end up looking like MacGuyver, minus the awesomeness :(

I's sorry, okay :(

"Ok", I reasoned to myself, "it will grow out and in a month's time, you will start to look like a girl. Just be patient and stay away from people who cut hair".

But I didn't.
I accompanied a friend who needed to get her hair trimmed, and the guy cutting her hair was such a flamboyant showman, taking small leaps and making artistic-looking gestures with his hands as he deftly wove his sharp scissors in and out of her hair. And I thought, "I need this guy's hands in my hair". So I asked him if he could make me look more girly, and he said that he could make me look not just girly, but smart, too.

Correction, he made my hair look girly and smart, but very short and trendy, and I didn't look like me. So back came the hair clips and the scrunchies. Not knowing what else to do, I coloured my hair again.

All these made me analyse my behaviour. Was this an acting out for a greater change, or am I just one of those permanently dissatisfied people? Did I, despite my easy style of dressing, perhaps crave for a more glamorous image? Or is this like when someone gets addicted to plastic surgery?

So I hated myself. I deleted two blogposts because I felt they were as shallow as I am. I drank coke again after swearing off it. Botched a presentation.
All with my new hair tied up in a bun.

TL; DR: I look like a guy.