Blondie

Ever since he was a little boy, my son has been my No. 1 “hair” critic. He tells it like it is and has never   pulled back his punches. He has raged, he has ranted but he has never raved about it.  More often, he’s   been horrified or amused.  When I cut my hair when he was four, he would cry every time he so much as caught a glimpse of my short ‘do. Another occasion, he refused to talk to me for a week, except to say, “ang pangit!” and then point at my latest hair style.  His reactions have been so tragic and funny, I’ve actually chronicled some of them. (http://nanayninaki.blogspot.com/2011/04/hairy-discussion.html).

Recently, after moaning endlessly about my increasing number of white hair I just couldn’t hide them any longer, i decided to do something about it. I went to the parlor near our house and picked a nice dark brown color and agreed to some highlights as the parlorista said, it would help camouflage the whites. Call me naive or stupid, but I mistakenly said yes. The effects were, even to my standards, quite disastrous. To put it nicely, instead of a deep chestnut brown, my hair was so light, i didn’t need to buy a gift for the golden wedding anniversary we were attending the following day. I could, in fact, be the gift! Neither was my sister kind in her assessment. She said bluntly, “parang cross ka between Aegis and laos na Japayuki." (My apologies to both)

And so it came to pass that when we got home, my son looked up from his computer, smirked and then chortled uncontrollably. Thankfully, that was it and no other verbal reactions came forth. “Nag-mature na ata,” I thought to myself. My sister and I then tried to undo the damage by buying a much darker color and applying another round of chemicals on my hair and then, prayed for the best. No such luck. When I woke up, my hair was still as bright as sunshine. When my son woke up, he had another round of hysterics when he saw my new ‘do and said, “Well it was much better than last night.”  And I thought that   that was the last of it. 

Boy, was I wrong. 

 A week after that hair color disaster, we had dinner out and the truth was revealed. I caught a glimpse of my reflection bouncing back from a store. 

“Ang blondie!” I groaned in dismay. 

My son, the one  I had just treated to dinner twice that day, shook his head, and said,  “and I thought you'd never top  the melon head'. (the short hair I had that he said made me look like a melon.)

 

  He then followed it up with, “Why on earth would you want to color your hair?”

 In my defense, I said, “Ang dami ko na kayang white hair!” 

“’Nay,” he said, “Weren’t  you the one who told me that white hair’s a sign of maturity? Well, it's about time you acquired some."

Maybe I should just get one of those blue or pink wigs in Divisoria….

a hairy discussion

THE hair -- and what to do with it-- is probably one of women's biggest dilemmas.

Long, short, straight, curly, wavy, black, brown, red, blonde, streaked, highlighted, permed, rebonded, relaxed....the choices are so limitless, it can make one dizzy.

I, with my natural(ly unruly) hair, am often at a loss with what to do with my crowning glory. Too lazy to go through the motions of blow-drying or applying gel, I usually just comb it after I step out of the shower and let the polluted wind and dust of Quezon City dry it all out.

Currently, my hair's beginning to grow from it's very short bob and has taken on a life of its own. It pays no heed to rule and order and curls where it wants to curl, stick out where it wants to stick out and like flat where it wants to lie flat.

To resolve the unruliness, I bought plenty of colored clamps, twisted my hair and put them where I can put them.

A stint in the office, however, gave me a chance to see how I would look like with curly and straight hair. 

During the break, Jini wound up our hair with curlers, and Leah, Lani and I emerged with golorious curls. I liked the look so much I decided to go home with it.

The women at home loved it, too, and I was met with many approving oohs and ahhs. My son? He rolled with laughter for 15 minutes! Now, this is the boy who cried for two straight days when I decided to chop my then shoulder length hair to a near buzz. The boy who refused to even come near me for two weeks when I made that monumental decision. Pretty used to his adverse reaction to any changes in my hair, I headed to the bedroom for a rest. A few minutes later, I woke up to find someone tugging my hair.

"Straight!" Naki commanded to the strands he held captive. "Straight!" he muttered over and over, before imploring me to please, please have my hair straightened. "It's permanent," I teased him, only to be met by a horrified look. To keep him quiet, I promised never to step foot in his school again and not to show my face to his classmates ever.

The following day, the girls in the office, decided that we would have our hair strengthened this time. A flattening iron did the trick and I went home with my hair super straight.

When I arrived home, the first thing my sister told me was how ugly my hair was. I agreed and told her how we had experimented in the office by straightening our hair. I was just about finished with my sentence when a loud cheer resounded from inside the house.

"Thank you, "Nay! Thank you!" Naki shouted.

When I told my husband in the evening about our son's reaction, I asked him, "Ikaw, what do you think? Pa-curl ko ba or pa-straight?"

Without even pausing to think, he said, "Paigsi mo."

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It's been seven or eight years after this was written and nothing has changed. I still don't know what to do with my hair, Ned still wants really short hair for me, and Naki? Every time I open my mouth to say I think I want to have my hair cut really short, he'll either give me a look of horror or laugh and call me, "melon head!". He says that's what I look like with short hair.

Sabagay, uso naman ang melon pag summer. :)