My Blog

After sporting long, layered hair for the longest time, I decided to cut–no, shave–my head.  My friends asked me why I did it - something I could not easily answer.  Some of them facetiously suggested that I I did it out of desperation.  Perhaps…

Anyway, the shaving happened last Saturday.  I was just supposed to accompany my mom who wanted to have a mani and a pedi, but when we got to the salon, my mom goaded me to have my hair trimmed.   Sitting on the customer’s chair, I told the stylist I wanted him to shave my head.  He touched my hair and asked if I was sure about it because he honestly thought, it’s “sayang.”  My mom heard our conversation and suggested I try a shorter cut first.  So I asked the stylist just to trim it and emphasize the layers.  He was toying with his fancy scissors when I asked him to just use a razor and start shaving my head.  He seemed so obliging, and after ten minutes, there I was looking at a giant, burnt siopao on the mirror.  My face was so round and big, and just staring at it made me crave for the steamed carbo-rich food.

Am I sorry I cut my hair so short?  Not really.  I had this do a few years ago, and I had this exact look when I had my SSS ID picture taken.  I remember I looked like an ex-convict back then, and I am sure I still have the same menacing look now even if I have packed a few more pounds to my frame.  Despite this, I feel that cutting my hair this short is a very liberating move.  I don’t have to take the pains of shampooing, drying, and treating my hair.

Feeling comfortable and looking good with this shaved head is entirely a different story.  My mom swears it makes me look younger, but my 4-year old niece has a different take on it.  We have this verbal game with her where we ask her if something’s nice.  I don’t know when this game started, but every time any of us in the family has something new, we show the item to her and ask her, “Is this nice?”  For example, when we were eating, my mom said, “Jab, look at my nails.  Are they nice?”  Jabe, my niece, smiled and replied, “Nice.”  I followed the same line of questioning and asked, “Look at my hair, Jab.  Is it nice?”  My niece just looked at me with a pained look on her face.  She opened her mouth then closed it, tried to open it again, and decided to give a very malicious grin.  Ok, Ok I get it!

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I was looking at somebody’s DVD collection hoping to find something good to watch on DVD.  While I was leafing through his DVD album, I found a very intriguing title:  “Beautiful Woman In Big Mouth.”  Upon closer inspection, I got it.  The DVD in question is atually a compilation of Julia Roberts’ movies.

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A couple of years ago, I dined at a local fast food chain whose mascot has a thing with honey.  I wanted to use their rest room, but when I was about to go inside, the door’s note almost made me wet my pants.  The note read:  “Men’s CR is out of order.  Please use the disabled CR.”  Tsk, tsk, tsk…How politically incorrect can you get!  LOL!

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A parlor in Dumaguete’s public market had this sign.  “Wanted:  Manicurist.  Qualification:  Bayot!”  Oh my, and I thought society is not supposed to discriminate.”

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I was watching on TV an awarding ceremony of a modern-day hero.  It would have been such an inspiring ceremony, but I ended up laughing so hard.  Maybe I just didn’t hear it right, but i swear the citation of the certificate read: “This award is given to __________________ for having been shot….”  Couldn’t it be said any better?  Shouldn’t they be awarding the man for his bravery?  Just a thought…