After 48 years ,I went back to ICC where I had my memorable On-the-Job training. For unknown reasons, I always forget to get my certification that I worked there for 320 hours. Finally, when the circumstances of graduation (as if everything's laid out already) compelled me to get my certificate, I let out a sigh and headed back to the cement plant. I was somehow excited with going back there. I was sure the guards would give me a hard time before I could enter their premises and when I finally did, the first statement of the employee and community relations manager (Oy, Mam Lolits), joking, was "May gani gipasulod ka sa guard. Taas na kaau kag buhok." ("You're lucky the guard let you in. You need a haircut.") She asked me if I'm available after five pm. I said yes. She said it's a good thing because by then they could accompany me to the barber shop.
I have to get my certificate. I grinned.
I don't need a haircut. My hair is just BIG. However, I'm doubtful sometimes, especially when I feel like I'm not going to fit inside a room because my hair won't allow me or when I go to school and my hair seems to tell everyone that I haven't taken a bath. Or worse, when people say my hair is obscene and should put on underwear.But I went on liking my big hair. BIG, curly hair. It protects me from drizzles (Yes, it's waterproof.) and it gives others the impression that either I am a contemporary Einstein or a former charge of a mental institution at large. Either way, I do not fit in and I stand out.
Recently, my friend Tamsi gave me a headband. That's it. I'm gonna keep my hair.
0 comments:
Post a Comment