a possibly strange idea

today i was looking into the mirror after my hair has dried, and i saw that there is this kink, on - in - my fringe that meanders (if hair meanders) in a loose s-shape across my forehead. it is a stranger amidst the straight-laced rest of my hair.

it irritates me, because i took pains to not have my hair meander so. that's why i had part of my hair rebonded, so it will not meander as it grows out. the fringe was left untouched because as hair goes, it will not to do have a flat fringe: i did not want to look like my entire head had been blown dry from above. as a result of that thought a tress of my fringe is now actively meandering across my er, countenance.

i know it will become "pretty hot" when it gets longer but right now it says "DIDN'T BOTHER TO COMB HAIR". which in all due honestly was probably true, considering the fact that trying to pull a comb through my hair is a lot like trying to pull a plough through a tangle of nets.

when it's wet, i mean.

but that's what rebonding was supposed to resolve, see? i straightened my hair so i won't have to comb it. isn't what why a lot of people rebond their hair anyway?

so the funky funky fringe has a personality. just like its owner. even the rebonded parts - despite being rebonded they still retain that slight bit of a curve, a hint of a kink, just to say "ha!", if anything.


as i stared at the tress brush in hand, i had an eureka moment.

i realised that i wouldn't quite be as pleased if i were to be perfect. i mean, that's what the media is for. they give you perfection, because you expect it, and that's how you expect perfection to look like, a generic perfect-ness, does it make sense?

hair has to be sleek or sexily wild, the make-up must be flawless and the lashes must be just so. then the rest of it all, the suit, the pumps, the shell buttons and that newscaster "so how do the rich and famous spend their weekends?" way of speaking.

sure, i want to be perfect, but i'd hate to be generic. i don't want to sound like every newscaster there was on teevee. i don't want to be every marilyn monroe that ever traipsed across the screen, honour that may be.

i want to be me.


and if having a kink in my hair means that i'm more believable, more human and more of a loren than anyone else, then wow, i'll take that kink anytime.

consider these two illustrations: -

"she's tall but not too tall, slim, almost but not quite to the point of being skinny. there is a certain jaunt in her movements, the same kind of jaunt hats have when placed at certain angles on peoples' heads, that makes peoples' eyes seek and rest on her. it is apparent that her hair has been put through some chemical process they call rebonding, a process that makes the hair appear silkier and more groomed... though somehow the hairdresser must have missed a strand: a tress at the corner of her forehead that seemed to have escaped that chemical fate."

and

"she's perfect."

uh. what? sorry, i must've blinked.

"she's perfect."

ah. right.

uh. so. right.

seriously, how else do you describe perfection? perfection in itself - correct me if i'm wrong here, please - but isn't perfection, in itself, a manner of generism*?

i don't know if you're going to call this sour grapes, but i'd really rather have unique points about me so my kids will have something to write about me when - if - they decide to write about me, assuming i am going to have kids in the future, so that i'm uniquely, definitively and unmistakably me rather than a shadow and imprint of every say, movie starlet there was.

so... while i may not be a movie star, while i have stubborn kinky hair that defies all chemical logic and have one ear higher than the other - i'm kinda glad that hey, these things make me who i am, they make me recognisable.

i want to be me. not a hollywood barbie everybody likes but nobody recognises. i mean, what if i got murdered and everything rotted away and only my ears remained?? we have to think about such things, folks!

so yes. i want to be me. not barbie, not manufactured.


me.