I went to get a haircut yesterday. It was definitely a couple of months overdue. My hair grows fast. Normally, a haircut would look good on me for two weeks. But past experience had assured me that no one would comment on my hair no matter how ugly it is, so I only see my hairdresser when I’m absolutely bored.
Wait… no one would comment on my hair, except my hairdresser Tita, that is. Yesterday morning, she greeted me with an exaggerated shocking look.
“What the heck did you do with your hair?” she said.
“Nothing. This is how you cut it last time. Remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”
“Well…” Good question, I thought. Should I say I was busy? Should I tell the truth that I don’t like to “waste” my time and money? After a short pause, I finally said, “I didn’t realize I needed a haircut.” Lying is one way to make a long story short.
She turned the chair and looked me into my eyes. “Don’t you want to look good? Women should always look good!” She was quite serious.
“At this age, Tita? I don’t want to look good; I want to look wise,” I said.
She hit me lightly with a comb. “Do me a favor, would you? Don’t tell anyone I cut your hair.”
“I suppose I can do that,” I said, and that was the end of our before-cutting conversation.
I have seen Tita for several years now. In spite of her earnest and well-meaning advices, I’m still not convinced that spending time and money to look good for two weeks is a smart investment. Her friendship, however, has become more and more valuable to me. In fact, I am somewhat addicted to her nagging… the kind of nagging that I used to get from my mother.
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