My dearest child,
Your grandma told me that my hair always troubled her, since I was a kid. She said that it’s really curly, which is okay and actually kinda cute, but she had hard times when it times to brush my hair, cos it got wrinkle and I always screaming of pain and all. So she decided to let my hair grow several centimeters and cut them short again, so my hair couldn’t caused scream tragedy in every early morning before school. Well, at least that’s what she believed will happen.
As a teenage girl, the tragedy still continues so I grew up feeling sorry for the shape of my hair, the black-curly-hair. I grew them long down and cover them with scarf so people won’t bother of how messy my hair was. And I started to fill my brain with a little bit of knowledge, because I know I can’t trust my hair appearance to have comfortable interactions with people, somehow afraid they might not like my hair and don’t want to talk to me. Luckily, your grandpa very happy to know that I grew my hair long and long, for he loves my hair so much, especially when it’s a long hair. And your grandma, still hates my hair.
When I was in high school, I started to have friends who have wonderful hair who knows how to take care them too as well. So I started to bonding my hair. It was 2 hours full of sorrow to wait and I was happy, for once, I saw my hair straight and neat, and I can brush them easily, without having to scream.
Until last year, I had bonding my hair for 3 times and smoothing for about 5 times. Each times are precious times for your grandma and ‘hide-and-seek’ time with your grandpa. The last time I smoothed my hair was last year, and I found some grey hair, protested my decision. So I let it grow longer again and see my original black-not-so-curly-anymore-hair for the first time.
I always wanted to live with my original hair shape, no smoothing or coloring, just as it is, because actually I love my own hair, I just don’t know how to take care of them well. Beside, your grandma’s more concern about my face while your grandpa always focusing me to take care for my brain needs.
With a help from my roomate Andhika and a wonderful stylist Irwan at the salon, know exactly what I want, I went to cut my hair and decided to live with my original shape of hair, the black-not-so curly-anymore-hair. I was really afraid of how it will look like in the end, and keep whispering, God, I’m a warrior surrender my hair to you by the hand of this nice stylist and the company of my roomate. I never asked anything for appearance matters, so please, let me have my old hair well starting today.
And there it is, as you can see, my black (now a little bit Red-colored)-not-so-curly-anymore-hair, now in a short cut, showing my chubby cheeks (eh, what can you do about them? :P) and my short neck. I felt relieved and so much blessed for the courage I have today, and yeah, it feels so much better, like thousands kilos of stones has been released from your shoulder. And it was worthed, because somehow, I feel like I know my own hair better.
So my child, yes, I’m going to hide from your grandpa for a couple months now to avoid his disappoinment with my new hair cut, and really can’t wait to show this to your grandmother.
I’m just sorry, that this nice short hair cut happened when I don’t have my love beside me. I don’t know how or why, am just feeling a little bit sad about that. This is a new thing for me, it takes more than courage to do that and I did. But nobody’s there for me to hug and share this moment. Ck, ah. That’s his loss, I guess. Because hey, it’s not just about hair, it’s everything you need to know about someone’s feeling at the time. Everything you need to know from someone you care about: hair.
Ha ha, it’s time to sleep honey. Kiss you goodnight, hundred times. Love you.