After a week of double-taking my reflection in the mirror every morning, and having officemates swing by my desk just to gawk at me either in delighted surprise or in polite horror, I can finally say that I have warmed up to my new hair cut. The stylist called it the “layered, out-of-bed cut” —his professional jargon for my request for a short, stylishly disheveled look or, in my own words: “Yung maigsi pero pwedeng guluhin sa gitna.” For some time I had been toying with the idea of trading my perennially longish hair for a radically different cut. Last Sunday that idea reached critical mass and finally achieved actualization, thanks to the persistent prodding (or badgering?) of Ivy and Arnold.
So far people’s reactions have been mostly positive. In fact, some were just too overwhelmingly positive they’re starting to make me wonder how terrible I must have looked with my long, hippie, fly-away ‘do! All those years! Some of the compliments almost sounded like expressions of relief that finally I have outgrown my wild-hair stage. Something to be ticked off their prayer items list! Haha!
Ever since that fateful visit to the salon last Sunday, my fist creative exercise for the day has consisted in contouring the short spikes so they would look nicely scruffy. I’m proud to say that I have come up with several styles: Swept-Down, Right-Pointing-Tsunami, Mildly-Electrocuted, Terribly-Electrocuted, and—my favorite, but one which I don’t have the guts to sport outside my apartment door—Just-Plain-Weird. Interestingly, I find that I am unable to exactly replicate a certain shape that I have serendipitously achieved on a given morning. Whew. All this fussing about hair is so far-removed from my wash-and-wear-and-let-the-jeepney-ride-dry-it hair days.
With this new ‘do, suddenly people notice my rather high hairline (I refuse to use “receding”) which had previously been disguised by long bangs. I’ve always had a rather wide forehead. (Go scan our family album—the grinning little Shaolin monk in a bathrobe is me.) My Pa claims—and he says this is based on ancient Chinese wisdom—that a prominent forehead is a sign of a brilliant intellect. I’ve never protested that, of course. And neither has he, from whom I inherited the prominent forehead. No one argues with ancient Chinese wisdom. Haha. Sure, over the years my hairline seems to have ascended a few…well… millimeters. But nothing to be alarmed about. I think. Gulp. Nonetheless, I’d be wiser to heed the stylist’s advice: “Sir, huwag n’yo pong susubukan ang brushed-up look ha.” Such wisdom, and he’s not even Chinese!
Several people have asked me about the reason behind the radical mane change. Nothing profound, really. Let’s just say that I’m ready for some changes 😉
P.S. Now everyone thinks I am vain! Haha! Wait till you hear that Arnold is contemplating getting highlights! Peace, bro!