Pieces of the Puzzle

One inch, is what I told her. When she spun my chair around to face the mirror, one inch was what was left. I looked like a retard from a recent trip to Thirupathi. Or worse like a cross between a balding German Shepherd and Hilary Clinton. Remember these words of wisdom, my friend - When a short haircut goes haywire, going shorter is not the solution. Grow it out. You will look like a demented wet sheep for a while, but it will eventually pay off. The long lustrous mane will bounce back to original length to make you look slightly more demure than Shahrukh Khan in Ashoka.

Next morning, I saw a banshee and almost got a heart attack. Calmed my agitated self when it was brought to my notice that the mirror reflected the mirror’s observer- me. However much I tried, I couldn’t get the hair to follow Newton’s law of gravity. Gel, oil, mucus… everything was slathered! I stuck a few pins, and wrapped my head with scarves. Much better.

My colleagues are nice people. I will trust them to come up with some compliment for this piece of art on my head. When I had grotesque clothes on, they praised my color sense. When I heated spoilt sambar in the microwave, they went ‘hmmm.. yummy smell’. But no one said a thing about my hair till I couldn’t take the suspense anymore and asked them, ‘What do you think?’

‘I like it.’ She says, almost wishing I wouldn’t give it to her. ‘You look settled,’ says another.

‘Settled? As in a woman? As in married?? As in mom with kids??? YIKES!!!"

So I go and pick another barber to cut it shorter and make me look younger. Younger is what I went for last time around too.

Long story (hair) short, I have finally agreed with myself to be in transition phase. I will just hibernate. I will grow out my hair and definitely not meet anyone till my keratin fibers reach my shoulders. No parties and no video shoots. *popping Vitamin E pills and checking growth with vernier calipers*