Sin-cerely, HAIR

So I visited a salon to have my hair done last Monday. A long overdue hair job, but one which I kept on postponing because of time and $ issues. And all because I’m not one of those gifted with a natural long, straight tresses or a glorious wavy hair.

Mine is curlier than the usual wave, to say the least. But to be straightforward, mine is kinky and spongy, the type that defies the gravity. Buhaghag. Really. Really, really so.

And with that hair, a trip to the salon would be way too expensive and I was just not ready to shell out some cash. Plus, the fact that a process for that kind of hair, my hair would take toooo long like 4 hours or so… And under some 120C heat. Shockkks. With two, three pairs of hands pulling the strands, left and right, east, west, north and south! It really is hardly encouraging.

But I needed it. Of course I can live without it, but be prepared if I live without it, be prepared to see the Old Hag in person. In flesh and blood. In its Asian persona, brown, stout and short and sporting a Bob-Marley hair (okay, I’m exaggerating but that’s closer to reality). I can hear my son say "Yuck" already. Really yuck. So so yuck.

Also, I really don’t want my dear son to scamper and dart off across the room in panic when he sees me, especially when all the lights are out. Yup, no mother in all her senses would want to give kiddo the scare of his life. No mother! I repeat, no mother.

So I finally pulled all the ropes together, actually I pulled off all the strings of all my pouches, to raise enough cash for that hair job. Cash all in, I was out of the door before you can even say “Hello.”

Here’s my first shot.

Edited (to tame the THE RING look).

I’m really flaunting it because I just spent much mickey-mouse money including all my centavos from my old purses, my alkansiya, and all the cash I collected out of the sale of old plastic bottles (no kidding!). And only to leave it under the wraps of a bandanna, hair/head band. Or a ponytail holder (not to mention that it would ruin the job). No way!


And after almost three long days without washing my hair (upon the hairdresser's advice), make it 67 hours of carrying all that grime, sweat and dust in the head (with the last 7 hours was spent asking whether all that not-washing is really necessary), I finally felt the refreshing coolness of water in my scalp. Just today, this noon. Heaven. It felt like heaven.

(And yes, I dare to go to work in an all-male office without washing my hair. I don’t know if they know, but it feels like they don’t. Or maybe they are pretending not to know.)

And introducing, another kind of heaven. This was recommended by the hairdresser at David’s and I was really skeptical. And not only skeptical, I was bowled over when I heard its price. It costs as much as 2 cans of dear Matt’s 900kg formula! (I know darling hubby would be aghast when he reads this). A fortune, really. A month salary for some hired help in this third world country. DO I dare to be so vain?

Nonetheless, I bought it and I am guilt-stricken now (but going on guilt-trips is my fave pastime). How could I be so vain?

Anyway, my hair felt smooth to the touch. (And as I write this, I’m instinctively combing my hair with my fingers and it still feels smooth and soft. Or maybe it’s just my imagination). And my olfactory glands are not complaining either.

After that salon trip and all that treatment, I do expect my hair to turn dry, brittle and coarse. I just hope this costly creamy mud would do the trick and feed the thirst and hunger of my newly permed hair. And all throughout the year (I hope I'm that lucky *cross my fingers*). With that price, it has got to be. Otherwise, I’ll sue the company. Hahah.

*alkansiya means piggy bank