We got ourselves a haircut today because we have a family Christmas party to go to on Saturday and we didn’t want to be the messy-haired relatives. At least Troy didn’t. I seem to be the messy-haired relative about 99% of the time due to my highly unmanageable hair so I’ve kind of got used to it. I got an okayish haircut. Not bad but not great either. I have nothing against Caucasian hairdressers but the best haircuts I’ve ever got here in Canada, I got from Asian and African hairdressers.
Speaking of haircuts, guess what my mother’s last wish was? It was for me to get a haircut. The thing is, I have to be in the right mood to go for a haircut. When she was in the hospital, all I wanted to do was to be with her. She kept telling me to go get a haircut because my hair looked like a big bundle of mess, but I just couldn’t. Getting a haircut was the last thing on my to-do list. I didn’t go until she passed away. I got myself a haircut so I would look decent on her funeral. I’m glad the hairdresser didn’t ask me what I’m getting a haircut for because telling her that I’m getting a haircut to go to my mother’s funeral in a few hours would’ve made for a very awkward moment.
My mum used to cut my hair, though I always had to talk her into it. We called this mother-daughter deal “Mother’s Wing Salon”. I still remember the last time she gave me a haircut. It was some time in February, the year she died. For some reasons, I knew it would be the last time. The next time I needed a haircut, she just couldn’t do it anymore. My mum liked my hair short. My hair is short now. I hope she can see it because I know it would make her smile.