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2012-12-16 - 10:02 p.m.

When I was a teenager, some school friends wanted to dye or bleach their hair. Red, brown, blond, blue...you name it. They said it was a trend. (Some couldn't understand why I just didn't care about trends and didn't even want to follow any - at least just to look 'cool'.)

They also said it was boring to have jet-black hair all the time. (You know, being Southeast Asians.) They just wanted to know how it felt, at least once in a while.

The results varied. Some didn't like it and regretted that somehow, they'd chosen the wrong colour. Some did, that even when they got suspended from school they didn't seem to mind. (Well, back then, we were all fourteen-year-old minors in a strict, religious private school. I'd silently wondered how they'd gotten their parents' consent to do so or done it behind their backs until it was too late.)

I wasn't interested to try. What for? I didn't want to change my appearance that way just to impress people. I also didn't want to risk damaging my shiny, jet-black hair for the sake of a temporary fashion statement. (Sorry, that's never me.) Besides, Ma had taught me one true thing about fashion: it repeats. A decade or two from now (if the world still turns, though), we might end up going over the same stuff again.

Most importantly, I know what I want and also why I'm doing it. (Well, most of the time, hehe.)

That's why I'd decided to bleach my few strands of black hair into silvery-white one Saturday. It started with a costume party at the school I work for. Everybody was busy deciding what they wanted to wear when the idea hit me.

Rogue from X-Men. Yes, that's what I wanted to be. All I had to worry about the most was my hair. I could get the mittens anywhere. I could wear my brother's hooded-jacket, almost like what Rogue (Anna Paquin) has worn in the movies. Easy.

At first, I'd wanted to let the professional hairstylist do the trick. After a serious consideration, I decided to just buy a hair-colour spray for a Rp.15,000. I mean, why waste a Rp.300,000 - Rp.500,000 for a few hair-strands whitened just for a day?

How did it go? With the little help of my brother in the morning, I came to school as Rogue. The costume party went well. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Some kids weren't that familiar with all the X-Men that I got a question: "Are you the bride of Frankenstein?"

Ha-ha, of course not. Besides, that's the name of the doctor. The monster remains unnamed until the end of the story.

After the party, I had to wash the coloured strands off. It wasn't completely back to black for a couple of days yet. I had to redo the process until all the white patches came off. It wasn't because I cared about what other people would think of my hair.

The chemicals from the spray had given me a serious migraine. Again, there was price to pay. So much for wanting to be a superhero, even for a day.

In case you're wondering why I chose to be Rogue, here's why:

I admire her, even as a fictional character. She's beautiful, strong, and independent. There were times in the past when I wished I had her power, so no jerks on the streets would ever think about trying to bug me at night. I mean, wouldn't it be fantastic if I could just catch their hands or let them touch me, drain their energy dry - which would automatically put them in a coma for three weeks, or worse? No tasers or pepper-sprays needed!

Then again, be careful what you wish for. You can't have it all. What if you ended up hurting innocent people - or your loved ones - with such dreadful power?

My big brother often reminds me not to be too scared of getting hurt, because - after all - that's one of the risks of reaching out to people. Getting hurt or hurting - or instead, embracing something far more comforting than those two scary possibilities, like love and the ability to feel emotionally-connected. I guess that's why I somehow associated myself with Rogue.

I also know that if I keep to myself without taking any risks, I'll end up feeling empty. I guess I don't have much of a choice, eh?

Funny how revelation comes down on you sometimes.

R.

 

 

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