My hair....gone

Most of the time, I'm choosy with my hair stylist. I always go to Bench Fix in ABS to have my haircut done by Cesar, my trusted stylist. It has been a while since my last haircut; it was around 3 months ago. So I tried to grow it to a fine mess of hair. I figured that no one, except my mom, is fascinated by the old-style-pompadour hairdo of mine. So I grew it long...no combing...well, I shampoo everyday, duh...but I hate the doctor/schoolboy well-combed look. A friend gave me a bottle of Kerastase shampoo for Christmas (I really love it. I really do. thanks suki!)which made my hair from wow to OHMYGOD...FABULOUS. Well, that's at least what I think.

Later this afternoon, while strolling along and cruising the shops of Gateway, I suddenly had the urge to have a haircut. I thought: "Just to tame my wild frocks. I'm attending a wedding on Saturday anyway." I went to this Menage salon, which I thought was a classy name, and had my haircut done. I told the hairstylist what I want: I want it styled but not too short, I'm going to a wedding this saturday so I want it tame but I still want the length. It's a challenge I must say but doable. Agree?

Maybe what I said shortcircuited his tiny ultraminiscule neurons and the next thing that he did is he started to snip the hairs covering my ears. OHMYFREAKINGLORD!! That's the last thing I wanted. Then he started to cut an inch from my crown, tore off all the hair that was hanging splendidly on my forehead and snipped all the curled edges of my frame. Good thing he didn't shave the sides or else I'll grab the clipper and make a reverse Mr.T-do on him!! During the onslaught, I sat down nervously, grieving inside and crossing my fingers that somehow, the end will justify the means....

But no! There is no justification. I ended up looking like my mom. I was planning to go to Claud's wedding in a tossed up hairdo and an after-five shadow dressed in my tailored pinstripe suit. It will be a standout amidst the well-groomed looks of my fellow doctors. But all those plans are foiled. Now, I'm considering to wear a barong. What a sob! I feel like eating a gallon of ice cream and drinking a keg of beer. Vanity kicks you in the ass sometimes. And damn it, most of the time, it hurts like hell.