Tuesday, October 31, 2006
hullo duck.
i was very hesitant to post this interesting revelation (of sorts). if you happen to see me over the next few weeks, be rest assured that i will keeeeeeeeeel you if u snigger and call me Muthu. (ish, you have immunity.)
so here goes the story of how i will always be destined to lead the Muthu life. (if u have no idea what exactly i am referring to when i say Muthu, well its a long story)
anyways.
so some time ago, i was telling my dad that i should have cultivated a good relationsip with some pro dude who can cut curly hair like mine. because everyone whom i have been to only is skilled in straight hair (no points for guessing why) and when they cut my curly hair, i basically end up looking like a poodle.
so the father suggested that maybe i should go to an indian person to get my hair cut. cos, logically, indian person=understands curly hair=can cut it better=i look less poodle
the problem was that i dont know of any indian person other than the barbers who bear resemblences to Kollywood (that's southie for Bollywood) mafia actors. and of course, i rather go blonde than to go to them.
some weeks ago, the father and i were in JB for our usual breakfast-pirated DVD shopping routine. and the father suggested to get my hair cut by the indian lady.
i figure, why not. since i havent had anything to gripe about in a while, might as well get my hair cut my a kollywood reject and then blame my father for even suggesting it in the first place. (no, i wasnt thinking that actually. i didnt really THINK, period)
so this shop is pretty decent looking, if i were into posters of tamil actors and fat indian ladies that is. but i am not, you see. so i wasnt too impressed with pretty much anything but of course that didnt prompt the brain into high-gear and make hasty escape.
so i told indian lady, "i want to cut hair. no, trim only. leeeeeetle bit. please dont cut so much. layer alot." and subsequently used my finger (which underlies how little i wanted to get cut) to demonstrate the length.
indian lady then handed my the ONLY english magazine in the shop(smart lady figured i wasnt, like, her type...) and proceeded to cut my hair.
and, when previous haircutters thought i was a poodle, this one thought i was the very wooly sheep that get their wool skinned every Hari Raya Haji. the lady went
on and on and on.so i kept telling her, "ok enough oreadi. stop! stop!"
and she says with equal enthusiasm (to my horror) "just minute. notchet finish. just one more minute"
and this goes on for a while. i notice she cuts hair with relish, like she is reallllly enjoying it. and when she is done, she steps back. with this satisfied, accomplished look on her face. and she then says, "u like. nice know?"
i wish i had a picture to post here but, despite going to a less than stylish lady, i think i look nice. i figure i will be seeing most of u anyways so u can see for urself.
anyways, indian lady was one of the nicest haircutters. she actually apologised to me everytime some of my cut hair fell onto the mag i was reading.
its strange cos i am having an Msn conversation with amelia about hair. (
her hair)
i think one day i will do the Hair for Hope thing. where u donate your hair, get shaved bald for cancer sufferers.
i think indian lady would be proud. :)
posted R @
9:54 am
