your mom has probably taught you a lot of things, including, among other things, to be faithful to the man you love.

somehow, while i fall prey to the occasional crush here and there, i'm pretty good at monogamy, albeit serial monogamy.

what my mom failed to teach me though was to be faithful to my stylist.

and so while i've blogged about going to gilbert, i decided to see another stylist over the weekend to get my hair relaxed. it could've been the attraction of a new parlor, or it could've been the slight desperation of being single at 28. i could've blamed my brother who was willing to lend me money or the millions of people who have sashayed in front of me with their wonderfully straight hair. or i could blame me, and my impulsive nature to take it out on my hair.

three hours later, my hair was stiff, sad, and fried. i stiffed the parlor manager who even seemed proud of his word in spite of my alarmed cries that my hair was fried within an inch of its life.

in his hateful high-pitched voice, he kept saying, "ibabad mo lang yan sa conditioner." yeah right. i don't think all the cream silk in the world could do anything to my hair which breaks with each tug.

and so, with tail tucked between my legs, i went back to gilbert, my stylist. and while he was alarmed over what i did to my hair, he lovingly snipped here and there, made me promise to come back within a month so he can snip some of the parts which were way too close to the roots to cut, and sent me off with hope that someday, it'll all grow back again.