One Hairy Affair

24 million days ago, I cut my hair and until now I still am not used to it.

In my head, I picture myself STILL with my long hair (It was NOT that long. It was still considered as short but longer by few inches –shoulder length? Na’ah. Shorter than that) so when I look myself in a mirror, imagine the shock of seeing a midget with pixie haircut staring back at me instead of a Maine Coone feline (My oh-so-wonderful-sweet-funny friends like to say that my hair reminded them of a Maine Coone’s fur. Nooice)

I try to wear a cap/hat/beanie-hat as much as I can but when there’s something wrapping itself around my head; it gives me a bloody headache. And I’ll scratch. The skin on my head sweats A LOT (even in an air-condition room. Yes, yes. Very nasty) I assure you it is NOT a sight to behold when you see a scratching sweaty smells-like-monkey woman wearing a pink turban hat to town.

That explains why when I take a photo of myself; I crop my head half. I just let my fringe shows coz showing my is-that-your-hair-or-an-alien-life-form-planted-its-spaceship-on-your-head to the Netizens does not ensure my eligibility to join the America Next Top Model so why bother?




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