Restlessness got to me and I did what any girl would do under the circumstances I was in: I got a new haircut.
Haircuts, for most men, are done regularly, with much the same results. They go to the same barber and pay the same amount of money for the same cut and give the same tip each and every trip. It is a matter of routine; a habit instilled even while they were still in school.
For women, on the other hand, it is a totally different story. We have regular neighborhood salons
for the basic snip done every two months, if we’re being good; or whenever our mood, schedule, or budget would allow it. We have the “splurge salons
” (see my review of Shunji Matsuo Hair Studio
on my Multiply site here
) where we go to pamper ourselves to get that movie-star gorgeous feeling afterwards. And then we have the “stylists’ salons
” that we go to when we want something radical, new, fresh, and unique.
After a week of poring through books that left me dissatisfied; changing bed sheets that did not help with my sleepless nights; avoiding people and questions I did not want to face; I decided that I had to avoid officially going crazy, and did something about it. I am satisfied with the results. Happiness; for this week, this month, or even this year, is not even the goal. Survival and satisfaction would do.
I got one of the senior stylists at Aura Salon (Katipunan Ave., QC – highly recommended by the Sikat na Girls) to give me a new ‘do. I complained about my once-straight, now wavy hair; the over-layering committed by my neighborhood haircutter; and my aversion to the daily blowdry that had left my hair brittle and dull. He got to work. Initially, he was just going to cut off two inches. I looked in the mirror and decided I want more. I described what I wanted. A shape that would fit my face, neat ends all around, and the requisite low-maintenance style. He nodded his head and cut some more, with precision that I admired.
He ended up cutting off six inches of hair. After he was done, I felt as if six tons had been lifted off my head. I thanked him, paid, gave my tip to him and to the shampoo-blowdry girl, and floated to my car.
I was happy until I realized it was ten minutes until three, my car was coded and had to be brought home soon, and my mother was calling because my father was panicking (since I was still not home and the MMDA might catch me). My parents forget that I’m a thirty-something lawyer. All the time.
I have to pack, finish some documents for my father, attend mass and Bible Study, and get beauty sleep for an early flight tomorrow. I took forty-five minutes for a haircut just to be able to breathe. I think it was worth it.
I’ll have some pics taken in Singapore. You be the judge.