Monday, May 15, 2006

Forget about Ben Wallace

FINALLY, for the second time around, I let my hair lengthened up to the point it's unmanageable and appeared like an overused mop head ready for its trip to the garbage. I have had several reasons in my pocket why I made such a move, to ignore the need to visit the barber man.

One is the scarcity of time which is channeled mostly at work. (Haha! It so happen that my job has been taking a great deal of my existence even my haircut has been spared, but that's another story.)

Two, I have the kind of hair that easily grows through time. Over the years, I've been wondering why my DNA has such characteristics. A david salon hairstylist hinted me that it maybe due to the frequency of shampooing. Her opinion mattered at first, but upon lessening the use of this hair cleaning agent, nothing happened. Still, my wavy and kinky curly hair I inherited from my father never wavered in getting a few more centimeters.

Literally, it's been one of my long time wishes since I was a kid. During my 5th grade, my grandma made use of her shears to smooth our heads. She used to make dresses for other people as a living. And during that time, Lucky and I were treated as guinea pigs. I guess she wanted to venture into hairdressing and carelessly cut our hair like a lost grass in the doorway. I admire people with long hair and even chanted the proverbial song Anong paki mo sa long hair ko, but I never had done since.

Three, life sucks oftentimes and having a long and untidy hair, mixed with untrimmed beard obviously illustrates the angsts and disappointments resulting from barrage of frustrations banged into my ears. It maybe similar with hunger strike or boycott, my version of coup d’etat, only it is in its most subtle form.

The fourth reason that I could think of is basketball. I love basketball so much that I tend to mimic everything I come to love. Sometimes I stick to one baller and draw inspiration from him afterwards. When I nurtured my hair, a Negro implicitly convinced me to do so. He captured my attention due to sheer bravado and excellence in one aspect of the game, the defense. I even asked a friend where I can find a cornrows dresser in Manila. Unfortunately, I changed my mind.

48 hours ago, I went to Trixie, an old salon full of gays. Without hesitation, I had my hair trimmed to its finest. No ifs and no buts. I convinced myself it’s time to let go of frustrations. Forget about being afro. Forget about being held inside the house simply because of a hair nightmare. Forget about Ben Wallace and from now on, I’ll start saving shampoos!

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