Shortly after I got home from work, I got a phone call from mom asking me whether I wanted to get a haircut. She was already over at the hair salon and thought about how my hair was getting ridiculously long at the back. Another month and I’d probably be bordering on mullet territory. Anyway, I did decide to head over and join her.
The hair salon is run by a Filipina who really knows what she’s doing. When I arrived, my mom was sitting their, waiting her turn, conversing with some other Filipinos about various stuff. I ended up being recognized by an older woman related to the owner who had cut my hair a few months ago. She remembered me, and I remembered her. So, she’s the one who tackled my hair.
The conversation between us took place in an odd mix of Filipino and English. I was able to understand most of what she was saying, but now and then she’d throw in a word that I hadn’t heard before. I understand most of the language. However, talking with her made me realize just how little I really knew.
Ah, the inevitable questions came up. She asked if I had a girlfriend. I just responded that I was a bit busy at the moment. Eventually, my mom joined in the conversation. The salon owner joined in too. They were all talking in Tagalog, talking about my future, and how I seemed like such a nice guy. It almost seemed as if they thought I couldn’t understand what was going on. Oh, but they knew. You know how it is, right? As much as it was a tad embarassing, the whole experience was a boost in self-esteem.
Besides coming out of there with a great haircut, I came out with a sense that I still have a great future ahead of me. How the hell did that happen?
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