Well, I have been inexcusably lazy about updating my blog, so here I am, doing the needful although there doesn't seem to be too much happening in my life worthy of note right now. One reason is that my health has not been too great lately, and I wouldn't want to subject my Net friends to a litany of complaints, and more complaints.

Hmm..well, maybe I can talk about my hair. Notwithstanding the fact that I am still Sweet Sixteen at heart, the sad facts of life contradict the way I see myself mentally. I once read somewhere that a woman's hair is the only thing that God created as a mere plaything subject to the whims and caprices of its owner. I quite agreed with that, and began to ponder on the various reasons why some people are bald, while others prefer dreadlocks, mohicans, spaghetti curls, ramrod straight hair, not to mention all the colours of the rainbow. There might be some sort of logic to their choice of hairstyle. Then again, the very fact that it need not be necessarily logical is the beauty of it.

To cut a long story short, in a characteristically belated gesture of rebellion, I decided to streak my hair during the winter vacations. I thought streaks of blond would do very nicely; something went wrong somewhere, and along with the desired blond streaks, I also had streaks of an indefinite colour, some pink and even a stray lock of navy blue hair here and there. The hairdresser was mortified. I liked it. I loved it. It had pizazz, I felt. It wasn't just about the hair, but about the way it made me feel - daring, bold, glamorous, free, and reckless. Of course, there are certain codes of conduct expected of people My Age, in My Profession, and therefore, one fine day recently, I had to bid a sad farewell to my streaks, and don my more "respectable" hairdo once again.

Of course, I will not mention the fact that some people (including my mom) felt my hair looked like it was sadly parched and had literally been dry-fried. The last straw, of course, was when a woman I didn't know at all, sitting next to me in church, sympathetically whispered, "You have grey hair too?" Needless to say, my "No" was rather curt.
Anyhow, this is how it looked:
Hopefully, I'll hang on to what my hair gave me, even if I cannot hang on to the marvelous hues.
Ciao!