Hey, I am What I am (You *bleep *bleep *bleep)
This is for you, Friedo
So today, something happen, kind a thing that made me put on my earphone into a dangerously loud volume, and pretending to read book. While, I supposed to have a conversation with other people.
No, it wasn’t even conversation. Criticizing people is not one. Criticizing me is terribly not one.
It is not nice when you were being judged because you are not like the other. I already bored with the same old bullshit people like to make fun of my hair. That I should straighten my hair, doing millions of treatment, that it’s was severely damaged, that I have to burn my money for every magical hair product out there and blah blah. When my friends make fun of that, I shrugged it off, gave them an exaggerating sad face so they know I was upset, because some of them were not so bright in the emotion department. When it was someone I care more, it usually hurt a bit.
When stranger brought that up, once, or twice I just ignored it. And make an oath to never return, usually to that hairdresser again. What do you expect? The kind of conversations were usually happen in a hairdressing place, not over a battleship nor in a saloon in the old west right before some dramatic gunfight, if the conversation happened in those odd place there would be seriously more bullets then necessary.
That time, it was five in a row in a single fucking day in lest then five hours. So, I tried no to punch someone in the face. I tried really hard not to.
A particular friend of mine will definitely says I shouldn’t need to think too much about what people say, but hey Friedo, they talked to me, eye to eye to my rather good ears. With voices mixed with pity and matter of fact kind of voice. And I paid them for doing my hair. I thought white lies and false complementary is in the service cost, because damn, those bill will make me walk to the office for a week so I can save for the gas. Yeah, great, they upset me and my bank account. And I did say five times didn’t I? That was way beyond my daily inferiority complex limit. So do not patronizing me, and tell me to not listen to them, because I did, and I can not just un listen them. At least I write about it after the incident. And no pity eyes or I would be on your front door tomorrow, with a bazooka and some cookies to trick you to open the door.
So, that was the reason of the loud music in the earphone and Plato and platypus book again, with Oliver Sykes screaming about can you feel my heart, and book that make fun of every single thing in this world, and beyond. Wow, both choice of song and book were bit ironic weren’t they.
So what if I am ugly. I don’t need to have an appearance of a cover model. But hey, Lena Dunham was on a cover of Vogue. And she was gorgeous there. And people know her, of her smart, sassy, hilarious, brilliant self. Those are the woman I look up into. Like, Zaha Hadid, Zelda Fitzgerald, Marie Curie and some others.
I was totally pissed off. The hair cutting is only second worst to my own cutting. And I never went to a hair cutting class at all (Funny thing about when I cut my own hair was, my friend couldn’t stop laughing when she saw my self-cut hair, it was asymmetrical, shape and volume wise, contemporary mind you, then she forced me to go to hairdresser, I was utterly dragged on and totally defeated. It was a completely different story from this one).
And I didn’t even keep on saying to myself that it’s the best to get my hair straighten. And comment that the tone of my hair looks like its dirt’s colour. Hey, I know I live with it every single day, and I don’t care. And I don’t fucking need to have a straight hair, you fucking asshole.
Zelda was so fucking beautiful with her short curly bob hair.
Ripley was bald and she kicked fucktons of alien arses, or faces, whichever.
Samus Aran wore super cool armour and I bet the aliens give zero fuck about her hair, while they were getting blasted off.
And Shepard too, hey Garrus did you fall for her hair or her amazing skill of saving the galaxy?
I do not believe Artemisia of Caria gave a single Persian damn about her hairdo when she sank the Athena’s battle ship.
Merida’s hair takes a lot to process and to renders, that’s how far Pixar goes for that fiery curl.
Hermione curls her hair for Yale Ball.
Carrie curls her hair for her prom that turned into a Halloween fest.
People in the movie curl their hair for the party.
I do not need to be told to do the thing that I do not want to do. You said I should straighten my hair, so I said I want to curl it.
You said it again, I replay it again. You said I should colour my hair with one of the confusing brown colour that didn’t deserve to be called dark brown, as the text written, so I asked the colouring lady to get me the darkest black. And now I look so emo with jet black hair even with dark skin tone, I only need My Chemical Romance album, black smudge eyeliner, all black outfits, with sad and angry letter written over the tees to make it more authentic. Tattoos are optional but discouraging so not to be confused as a metal head.
I hate you so very much, how dare you cut my hair so sort. I just bought a curling iron a couple of weeks ago. I want to let my hair longer so I can curl it. And fuck other people, who also said long hair do not suits me; I just bought a curling iron for fuck sake. And I never want to have a long hair before. I hate every single one of you. I hate you all with the intensity of thousand burning sun.
Let me have my dirt’s colour medium length hair back, I don’t care if “no boys will look you”. So what, I can always be a crazy cat lady. An architect with 12 cats I would call them all Sherly, and a Siberian husky by the name of Corby. If I want to have men look at my direction, I can always ask my friend to go to the mall or somewhere with me. Male species will look to our direction, not to me but to my friend. That was a bit sad, but some of them were easy on eyes, and they wouldn’t notice me when I accidently stare at them a minute too long, that were nice enough for me.
Well, yes I want to marry, yes I want to be adored by someone, it shouldn’t have to be “all shall love me and despair…” yes I want a dude that is not:
A. fictitious, because it’s not healthy to have two way monologues inside our own brain. No, I do not care if your face is a hybrid of a bird-cat alien, because I always love your sniping skill.
B. some famous person with slim chance we ever meet even if we were last few people on earth. Cos, geographic guys… Here, is far from some place called London. He resides there right? Can somebody send me the contact of that Brit whose cheekbones has a power to conquer the world? You know, in case the end of the world is near and he needs to be saved.
But, could we just be what we want to be, not identical clones of some character from The Stepford Wives because, no one want to get lobotomized into something else. In this case is into identical long straight glossy hair girl inside every hairdresser place. I was never really good with blending into world of archetypical model. I am always too short to be a catwalk model, and move too much to be an architectural model, you know “model”.
We haven’t gone all the way The Brave New World, to be plotted and placed into the designated place without any objection nor question, and I don’t want to, to err is human right? The choice of what we want and what not is an honour. Not everyone could claim it, not everyone wants to fight for it.
For a lighter note, this is an excerpt from Plato and Platypus Walk into a Bar. I changed it a bit so I don’t get sued while my lawyer still busy with her “legal stuff”.
A: Hey, I’m calling you from my on my new cell phone.
A. They just said on the radio that there’s a nut driving the wrong way on the freeway.
A: One nut? Hell, there are hundreds of them!
I was the girl with funny kind of brown hair and messy hair texture. I will never, in this lifetime, visit your shady, over pricey hairdressing place ever again.
So, please, with a heart full of my sincerity…to that hair dresser and some people that make that day miserable, I will not let you straighten my hair.
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