"Gorgeous hair is the best revenge." - Ivana Trump
It's almost impossible for me not to write about my hair. I remember writing this lots of years ago, (Yes, when "Glee" was still my guilty pleasure) and rewriting it again a few years back. This long, winding, and heartfelt piece about my hair story almost got lost somewhere, but time after time, it always seemed to come back up again and again.
This was the opening image in the original blog post. My eyebrows suck.
The earliest memory I have when I was a little (boy lol) girl was that my parents used to dress me up as a boy, because ever since the start of their marriage, they’ve been longing for one. (Apparently, they succeeded after an "unperceived" fourth try, 20 years after their marriage.) They dressed me up in shorts, striped collared T-shirts, rubber shoes (which explains my penchant for rubber shoes and sneaks up to this day), and a matching boy cut. I was the perfect little boy, with the sporty kid attitude to boot. I remained in that state of androgyny for a few years. Then grade school happened.
My carefree days in the city of pines were characterized by dirty sneakers and sweaty shirts. I rarely wore my hair with clips and bows because they'd just get in the way of playtime. One particular day I remember though, was my pre-school graduation. My mother clipped on a bright red ribbon on my hair, and it didn't do much to stop me from running around the place after the ceremony.
After that, my hair grew longer.
During my first four years of grade school, our Manay would buy lots of colorful and assorted hair accessories for my younger sister and I. She tied my hair in braids and pigtails and would pull back my hair so tight that I cried for release. In first grade, my hair was still relatively short, and my best friend back then had long, gorgeous straight hair I silently pined for. She still keeps it that way, as far as I know.
I was in sixth grade when my hair first got treatment. My curly mane was straightened to hell and back, and today, I never understood why I went under that treatment, why I chose to wreck something that was good to me. My hair went back to normal in a few months' time, so I guess I still got the last laugh.
I certainly outgrown the boy cut, but the androgyny still remained. I happened to like girls at that time, too. It was a short thing to even be considered, but aah, the things and feelings that high school introduces to us.
During high school, I was immortalized as the girl with long and curly hair. (And let me tell you that I looked terrible!) Bangs were all the rage in the 2000s, and though I wanted to jump into the bandwagon, my forehead was speckled with acne. That, and my mother said that bangs won't match my curly hair. It was during my third year in high school that I decided that it was a good idea to have a perm. It was only after four months of endless teasing and name-calling that I had the curls chopped off.
It was time to begin anew. College happened. I mean, my first course happened.
2011
Putting behind all the heartache at that period of my life, I was once again faced with the choice of trading my signature curls for a straight mane. We all know the choice I made in the heat of the heartache, don’t we all? My first year of college ended with a high note and I ended it with my curls diluted in medicine, until they were straight, straight, straight. I wore my straight tresses for half a year. After that, I had them chopped off because it was too high-maintenance. Hello, my fluffy hair again.
2012
Whenever I look back at things, I never understood why straight hair appealed to me so much. Back then, Vincent told me that he thought I looked pretty awesome as I was, but it was also at that time that I started coloring my hair like a madman. Red hair was all the rage back in 2011, and though I pestered my mother to allow me to dye my hair, I never got what I wanted, and instead she convinced me to do light brown instead.
2012
(Yes, I had it colored so much that my hair got so fried.) My hair grew and grew and grew, from 2011 to early 2014, and I had it colored constantly. As soon as I saw the roots, I had to get them touched up.
2013
It was in early 2014 that I felt like I've had enough of this hair. I remember carefully contemplating about this radical haircut that it almost made me chicken out of my uncle's salon. I stopped coloring my hair after my friend Dexter remarked that I looked much older because of it.
2014
This was the last look I had before chopping off most of my hair.
I have to admit, it’s pretty enjoyable having short hair. It’s low-maintenance, super easy to care for, and I get to save a lot of shampoo and conditioner. But you know, since my hair is fluffy, it’s still kind of hard to maintain and tame, and I’m bothered by the increasing amount of falling hair I gather every time I take a bath. How could I not be bald?!
Eight days after my 21st birthday, I walked out of our uncle's salon a new person. (Or so I thought.) And to be honest, I think I rocked the short hair a lot.
It pained other people that I had chopped off what was three year's worth (length?) of hair, but nevertheless, I went through the entire thing, with my hair tied up and all. When I heard the scissors cut through the thick ponytail, I couldn't help but think oh, yes, I've done it.
(And maybe I loved it a bit too much.)
Yes, this is a coincidence.
I've been asked a lot of time why I decided to have my hair cut so short and I simply answered them that it's terribly hot here and it was such a pain to keep. But to be honest, I felt like that haircut was a form of emancipation. I felt free-- from myself, from the mistakes I made when I still had it, from the restrictions and people telling me that I can't, that I couldn't. Well, I did. And how thrilling was the thought of growing back hair that has never been touched by anyone or anything?
Apparently, other people weren't too pleased with my rad new haircut. I had no choice but to grow it back since people often associated me with long, wavy hair. I started chronicling my hair growth late-May 2014 and suddenly stopped sometime in October.
May | August | October 2014
A lot of people have told me that long hair suited me better, but a lot have also said that I rocked the short hair indeed. My first radical haircut in a long time had mixed reactions.
Coloring my hair is off my list as well. I figured that natural is the way to go for me, and after reading Ms. Helga's (one of my most favorite bloggers ever) list of colored hair problems, I thought I'd steer clear from it. I also figured that if I wanted crazy colored hair, I'll stick with a wig. (I have to admit, it was Ms. Helga that got me into the colored hair thing, though I never achieved colors like hers.) Besides, I don't think the churchgoers would like seeing their reader with electric pink hair. (It's a tempting thought, though, but I won't push my luck.)
2015
After that certain haircut, almost everyone close to me made sure I never made the same "mistake" again. My hair grew back fairly nice. Of course it became a pain to take care of again, but hey, it's my crowning glory. I grew it back for two years, brought it to World Youth Day, and had it chopped off again a month after I got home. When everyone asked me, oh my gosh, why again?! I gave them the same answer I did two years ago: it's terribly hot here and it was such a pain to keep.
Early 2016 - Late 2016
To be honest, I really didn't know what came over me. I just wanted another haircut. There was that reason, and the other was because I made a really, really stupid mistake back then and I wanted to compensate for my stupidity by having another haircut. I don't know, I guess it was just me punishing myself or something. It's strange logic, really. Even I didn't understand myself back then.
And then bangs happened!
Late 2016
Bang are something I'll never regret. The only regret I ever had is that I never got them earlier. From then on, I managed to grow back my hair normally. I was occasionally tempted to have my hair dyed again, but I fought the urge to. It was so easy to look back at how my hair died at the hands of hair dye and convince myself that I don't want my hair to go through that kind of torture. Hair dye was peanuts, actually.
However, 2017 was another thing.
Early 2017
I never thought that I would find myself using the exact same logic I came up with last year. Let's just say I had to say good bye to a lot of things this year, including some of my hair again. I wanted to think that I was punishing myself. I thought I did well. Sometime in July, I had another haircut at a local salon somewhere here. When my mother saw what I did with my hair, she was absolutely horrified.
Her cousin, one of my uncles, works at Salon de Manila at Tomas Morato, and she had my hair redone. Even I couldn't believe that my previous haircut was so bad that she had to had it done again. (Yes, my hair looks so much better with a blow dry.)
July 2017
2017
It was only recently that I admitted to myself that I miss my long hair. I still don't miss it that much, but my hair right now is that awkward stage where it's not short anymore, but it's not yet long either.
While it's true that Disney princesses gave us high hair expectations, I hope that it doesn't stop you from wearing your hair in the most regal way possible.
A haircut really is one of the most life-changing decisions a person will ever make, because let's face it: the hair makes a person. It's part of a person's outer shell and receives criticism as much as their faces. A wrong haircut won't ruin your entire life (Okay, maybe it will for a while). Somehow it'll teach you a lesson on following trends because once the haircut doesn't go your way, the only consequence you'll ever face is grinning at other people and bearing as they comment about your flyaway hair.
Like my mom always says: It's just hair. It'll grow back. You gotta wait a while, but it'll grow back, and it'll be good as new.
What's your hair story?
