I haven’t really given much thought to styling my hair for most of my life. When I was a child my mother gave me the ‘fringe cut’ with straight hair at the back. It remained my haircut for years.
The first time I really took charge of styling my hair was in my early adolescence: I grew out the fringe and started to center part my hair. The second time was after graduating school when I got myself the ‘layered cut’. It was the rage. The third time was at the end of Junior College when I started to dislike layers and got myself the ‘Victoria Beckham’ bob.
I’m sitting on a lounge chair overlooking a vast swimming pool. The sun is out but the giant umbrella above me is keeping it at bay. Basking under the cool shade, I slide further down into my chair. My eyes are shut, but somewhere in the distance I can hear a child-like laughter.
I learned early on that I have a bad affliction of not making concrete weekend plans. Usually I’m just lazy, but when I do, it’s mostly a one-on-one with a single individual friend who I can speak to at length about life.
A couple of weekends back, I made exactly such a plan. I reached out to an old friend after nearly 2 years, and to celebrate our union we decided to meet for brunch at quaint little café on a hill on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The location was a mid point between both our houses – symbolic of our mutual excitement to see each another.
I turned 24 on a Friday of the previous week, and for the weekend that followed it, I found myself celebrating with friends, feasting on basil dumplings, marveling at the deliciousness of my pizza, posing before my camera and laughing at every joke I heard.