My one beach trip for the summer

We were already in Tagaytay when a tree branch fell on and CRACKED the car windshield. What are the odds of that happening? So we drove back to Ortigas to change cars. I drove up to Tagaytay (Me! Driving!). Burgy drove up to Nasugbu in the dark with me navigating (Me! Navigating!). Aprille kept us smiling. 

We got to Fuego past 10pm. Accuweather said it would rain Saturday. Lola and friends said no, let the child turn brown. So we had one whole day of sun and sand. I swam laps in the sea. I sat on the shore. I stared at where sea met sky, where the sun played with the leaves. I watched a kid play in the sand. I think one should visit the sea regularly to feel awe, to feel small, to feel strong. 

Thank you, Universe, for letting me see the beach before the rains come back. I am so very grateful.

Seize the Scissors

(This is a very long tale about my mane. Beware.)

People called me a bunch of names growing up: Annie, Curly Sue, Curlilocks, Santo Nino. 

If this look were to have a name (like Blue Steel and Le Tigre) it would be...The Burot.

When I was younger it was a love-hate thing...especially since most of my friends had stick-straight hair you could run your hands through without breaking your joints or losing a finger.

When I got older and got over the standard parlor line ("Ma'am, ayaw niyo magpa-unat?") that morphed into the standard salon line ("Ma'am, ayaw niyo magpa-rebond?"), I started liking my hair. It didn't hurt that digiperms and them Korean girls got popular; some salon people even started complimenting my hair ("Ma'am, natural curls yan?"). 

But curly hair can get big, can get hot, and can get itchy. So I've spent the past few years pulling her into a bun or a ponytail. And then I saw this picture of me with my niece and freaked out:

The picture that made me realize my hair was seriously thinning.
Which is my karma, because I've always wished for thinner hair.
The gods are funny that way.

Naloka ako sa kanipisan ng buhok ko sa tuktok ng ulo ko. This picture sent me running to an organics store and buying all sorts of oils and hair masks and conditioners--the combination of which freaked my scalp out. (Note: I am super-pro organic stuff. I'm just saying my crazy combination freaked my scalp out. Because I was freaking out. Now that I don't use all of them at the same time they're nicer to me.)

I turned to my ever-wise sister and she said, "Do a vinegar rinse." It saved her from decapitating herself when being pregnant gave her crazy-itchy skin and scalp.

This is what my hair looked like after:

Pinaka-winner compliment from an artistic dude who paints:
"This would make an excellent painting." *blushes*

It was like setting her free. Be curly, dear curls. This is who you really are. I wore her down, and I wore her loose, but curly hair can get big, and hot, and itchy, especially during a crazy-hot tropical summer. 

So I made two PowerPoint presentations with hair options and made an appointment with a stylist who cut my hair once before, in a way that I loved so much that she exclaimed, "Camille, stop looking at yourself in the mirror!" 

Distracting myself with Time Magazine.

Three people said three different things to me that made me seize the scissors:

1. My Kulafu, after I protested that I can't have short hair (which he loves) because my face is round: "Your face will always be round. So?"
2. My Dear Sister, right after Drea the Super Stylist said she'd give me time to think about it: "Think of it as a reboot for your scalp."
3. Drea the Super Stylist, when I gave her the green light to chop it off: "We shouldn't be imprisoned by our hair."

A whole lotta hair.

It's been two days since I seized the scissors. The last time my hair was this short I was  around eight years old--which probably explains why my reflection and my shadow made me jump when I walked home from the salon. 

Short hair is definitely more fun to wash (I keep grabbing the back, like a phantom mane) but harder to style, and I'm getting to know her all over again. I've semi-retired my hair elastics and dusted off my bobby pins. I've realized that putting my sunglasses on top of my head (which I normally do) helps me "set" my hair but isn't so nice when the sun hurts my eyes. (And can make me look really stupid when I'm walking home at night.)

I'm on the hunt for a blow dryer with a diffuser attachment, but most stores sell them hair iron thingies (Camille, this is the Philippines! What did you expect? They want everybody to have straight hair!) I'm still on the hunt for products that will keep my hair curly but don't contain all those nasty chemicals that made my hair so dry in the first place.

Yesterday my hair made me feel like Julia Ormond; this afternoon it felt closer to Wolverine. I guess my hair and I will be stuck with each other for at least a year...here's hoping we figure each other out!

A Julia Ormond/Felicity/20s Flapper moment from yesterday.
Not in picture: my current Wolverine/80s New Wave moment

This skinny thingie.

I think I'm starting to understand it. Abangan!