The Fag is a Dyke

I sat in a hair dresser's chair for the first time in about eight months. Three days ago I decided to have my long hair chopped off.

I have been wearing my hair long for three years already and I just became so obsessed with grooming it. I decided to get rid of it completely to put an end to such an irrational undertaking (the last word being used here for lack of a better term... hahaha).

I saw snippets of my hair fall on my lap, my shoulder, or the floor. It's like being reborn coz for the longest time I've somehow (but not completely) attached my identity and how I act with my long hair.

And I decided I'm going to be Twiggy (god, that's what watching America's Next Top Model is bringing on me). Far from resembling Twiggy, I left the beauty parlor feeling like a new person. I doned on my new persona in a heart beat.

But when I reached home and checked my self in the mirror I realized that I was more of Gloria Macapagal Arroyo going butch, which incidentally Luan pointed out the next night. I even went as far as buying that hair press thing that supposedly "irons" one's hair. But it was of no help at all. If anything, I looked like Aiza Seguerra at the prime of her butch-ness.

Last night, I decided to cut a couple inches more from my crown. Yup, I did it my self. And I came out feeling better. With hardly any hair to speak of I do not have anything to fuss about.

I'm going to post pics of my new hair soon.

And by the way, I do have a job now. :)