I’m not a vain person.
Don’t get me wrong. I cared and still care about my appearance. I wouldn’t have lost all those pounds if I didn’t. I know I have always said I went on a diet and changed my lifestyle for health reasons, and that’s 99 percent true, but a tiny part of me wondered if I could still look good in jeans and a fitting shirt.
And I do, by the way. Look good in jeans and a fitting shirt. Mind you, not as good as I did five years ago, but still not bad, if I may say so, considering my age, which shall not be mentioned here since it is not relevant.
Does that mean I was a fashionista back in high school? Well, I don’t know. Did I have espadrilles in different colors to match my shirt? And did I have Swatch watches in different colors to match the espadrilles? Not that I cared much for accoutrements.
Believe it or not, I never cared about what people thought of me. That included my appearance. I never dressed for others. I dressed for myself. If I thought I looked good, that was the only validation I needed. That also meant I never listened to other people. I ignored their advice even if it was for my own good.
As a result, there were instances, and trust me there were many, when I looked entirely ridiculous.
Like the time I entered a doubles tennis tournament all dressed in white: headband, shirt, shorts, wristband, Swatch watch, socks and shoes. Of course, the racket, too.
Did I care that we only managed to squeeze one game each set, and only because I approached one of our opponents and begged him not to bagel us? Of course not. Back then, I didn’t mind losing as long as I did so in style.
Or that time when I thought a jumper was the height of chic. I think I saw Ariel Ureta wear one on TV and thought I had to have one. So much conviction at such a tender age. But yes, my mother’s seamstress ended up making one for me along with my school uniform. The latter I wore during the weekdays, of course, and the former on weekends.
I have always had a one-track mind. Once I set my sights on something, I immediately zero in on it. That’s how I lost almost 100 pounds twice.
Does this mean I’m vain?
Let me see. At the end of the day, it was never about the clothes. I was never a sucker for trends. Come to think of it, I’ve bucked so many trends it’s safe to describe myself as the antithesis of a fashionista. It was always about my perception of myself.
Does that make sense?
And I have always perceived myself to have the best hair in the family. All natural. All luxuriant. And perfectly wavy. Sinfully so.
One day I walked into the newsroom with straight hair, and everyone was aghast. What had happened to my curly locks that had been the envy of many? Back then, I got a perm, convinced I’d look great, and I thought I did. So what if I got funny looks from colleagues? In hindsight, I may have unwittingly become my very own Delilah to my Samson.
So yes. My hair has always been a constant companion over the years, through thinness and fatness. My younger brothers were forced to shave their heads in their 30s, but not I. I stubbornly cling to mine even though it’s not as verdant as it once was.
I have to admit these last few months have been very concerning. And to think I have only been to the barber once since the start of the year. How awful, right? Before things could get any worse, I took matters into my own hands. I switched shampoos. I’m even applying hair tonic from Thailand twice a day now.
As God is my witness, I will have a full head of bouncy, wavy hair again.
Does that make me vain?