2012-12-01 - 12:52 a.m.
I used to hate watching shampoo commercials on TV...so much. They're not being fair! I remember only once I saw a shampoo commercial where the model had long, curly hair. That happened back in my childhood.
It took me quite a while to have finally accepted my hair the way it is. It wasn't easy at first, because I grew up a minority in the family. None of my parents and my two siblings have curly hair.
Some kids in school - especially boys - used to tease me a lot about my hair. (And no, I was still way too young, stubborn, and temperamental to believe in the theory that they'd actually liked me but had no idea how to get my attention back then. So, there!)
This is one of their corniest jokes that I still remember:
"Wanna lose weight? Shave your head. I bet that'll shed a couple of kilos out of you!"
Ha-ha. Very funny. I could've died laughing.
The fourth year in university, my straight-haired sister insisted that I try having my hair straightened. Out of sheer curiousity myself and annoyance at her pestering me, I gave in. I let her drag me to a hairstylist's. She'd even kindly paid for my hair treatment.
How was it? Well, since I'm a tomboy, I didn't like it. It was a sheer torture, having to sit still from eleven to three. No joke. I couldn't stand the chemicals they put on my hair. The smell had made me feel dizzy. Yuck!
When it was finally done, I looked like one of the Koopa's mushroom troops in "Super Mario Brothers". (Well, except that my hair is jet black!) I cringed openly, but my sister assured me that I looked 'much better' (well, according to her.)
The hairstylist had assured me that my new hairstyle would last for two months. That didn't comfort me - especially with the reaction I'd mostly gotten from my friends. Worst of all, the guy I'd had a major crush on back then refused to speak to me. Why? Up to now, I don't know for sure. Maybe he was irritated with the fact that I wasn't confident enough with my hair.
Years later, he married a curly-haired girl. Ouch.
Less than two months, my hair started showing unpleasant signs. It turned dry, red, and was badly damaged in the end. I suffered some serious hair-loss and split ends that I ended up having to do something drastic.
(My sister had reasoned that I should've had a regular hair treatment at the same salon for at least twice a week to keep the texture unharmed, but I considered that a serious rip-off!)
I had to have a major haircut. Think of Keanu Reeves when he was playing Jack in that action-packed thriller called "Speed". Yep, that short.
After that, I had to wear a hat for the next couple of weeks after another variety of reactions. One guy had assumed that I was a lesbian, because he tried to set me up with a girl. (Oh, brother!) Even one of my late best friends (God bless his soul) had winced critically and carefully touched my semi-spiky short hair - as if he'd feared he would've cut his fingers.
"Are you sure you're not...umm, depressed?"
"Am I depressed?" My jaw dropped in astonishment. "Yes, now I am - thanks to my damaged hair!"
Not long after that, my hair had grown back to normal. Well, my version of 'normal', of course. My sister had tried to persuade me to go through the same stage again, but...no way. Once was more than enough for me.
Yeah, I admit that I used to be a self-conscious and insecure fool with my hair. Then came those funny moments in my adulthood, which still make me laugh today everytime I remember each of them.
These rebellious curls have got a tendency to get themselves entangled or stuck in weird ways. Comb, hairbrush, the window of the angkot(public minivan), the inside of a helmet, and my own bangle bracelet.(If I'm not careful, the list might go on.)
The most ridiculous moments were the ones involving my 'big brother'. Once we traded kisses on the cheek while he was wearing his sunglasses. I'm sure you could guess what happened next.
The moment I stepped back, his sunglasses had almost come off - thanks to my entangled curls on it! We both cracked up laughing.
Not only that, I'd accidentally slapped his face with my hair...twice.(I don't know why my hair just loves his face so much.) Once it also happened to his loved one (who's now an ex) when he first introduced us both. What an embarrassment!
The greatest achievement I'd had with my hair was when I had to do a thirty-second crazy dance in front of a camera on stage and in public. It was all for a free laptop! I ended up relying on my vicious hair after some of the spectators that day had cheered:"Use the hair!"(The hair?)
Now I don't care about the typical shampoo commercials on TV anymore. I don't have to torture my poor hair with the same dreadful chemicals. I only go to hairstylist's everytime I need a proper haircut. My big brother has also introduced me to the right products to keep my hair from falling off like a Persian cat's under the scorching sun.
Seriously, I'm damn proud of my vicious hair - especially with its unusual 'abilities', from slapping people in the face until helping me to win a free laptop.
Crazy.
R.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpc7O5HGdAY
