Ole to hair
Saturday, December 04, 2004
For the longest time that I felt that I look deadbeat with black hair even when it is now straight thanks to the godsend miracle of rebonding to aid fizzy hair sufferers like me.
Feeling reckless, I made an appointment at a salon (Jantzen) I have never been to before, not even for a haircut. The realisation finally hit while sitting on the chair after an initial hair wash. There I was going to subject my hair to the mercy of a total stranger. What have I done?
I pointed to a picture of a Japanese girl with a cutie-pie face who sported really lovely colour hair and told him that this colour looked nice. He nodded and suggested the closest shade. It's a reddish shade and I wondered if I could pull it off. While my heart was thumping, I felt that my actions were controlled by an external force. I nodded enthusiastically, not thinking that I will not see my all black hair again. Before I knew it, the hair stylist was applying some creamy stuff all over my hair and set up some contraption with a huge ring rotating over my head. It reminds me of that hypnotic ring those baddies from an old Superman movie were confined in while receiving their sentence to be all stuck in a mirror and exiled into space. As I felt my head feeling warmer, I could also see my hair colour changing. Now the voice in my head started getting louder. WHAT HAVE I DONE??? What if I'll look weird? Not even 6 months of growing out my hair will fix it this time.
I didn't expect a trip to the hairdresser to be quite an emotional roller coaster ride for me. I sighed, I stared, I grasped at the seat, I wondered, I sipped calmly on my drink, I panicked, I day dreamed and more. Finally, 6 hours later I emerged from the salon with freshly straightened and coloured hair. Slowly but surely making my way to the escalator, looking like any ol' salon veteran (aka tai-tai) and turning my head briefly at any reflective object along the way to let my inner girly-girl coo, "Oooh, look at the pretty colour." |
