Malay children in Brunei
Penan children in Sarawak
My nephew Ilham-Bear had mistakenly acquired a Penan-do at the local barber a few days ago. My sister, Inny-Pooh drolly told me about the bowl-cut incident when Ilham-Bear wriggled in his seat too much that the barber was unable to shorten the back, hence the Borneo Isle look. But who else would look cute in a bowl-cut except Ilham and the Penan children of Sarawak? I don't know man.
My son, (the-previously-monikered-Myuzim-now-Zimmie as he insisted) on the other hand, HASN'T had a haircut despite all the hair on his face. In fact I think he's been colouring it in various colours on the sly. When I stare too long at the long bits, I start to think of scissors. This state of rebellion continues even though I constantly call him Jay Zhou.
A few days ago we were at Mom's and the topic of Zimmie's hair came up. It always does amongst us sisters because we all have a soft spot for the buzz cut. I looked towards my mother for support and found none. With a grandmother's absolute love for her grandchild, she accepts that Zimmie has funky hair falling into his eyes so that he'll look like a member of a K/C/J-Pop boy band. No big deal. Then in front of my son, she reminded me how alike Zimmie and I am and thus making me lose ammo in the fight for the buzz cut (thanks Mom). But yes okay, I must admit there are parallels.
I was 15 years old (just a few months older than Zimmie is at 14) when I saw my head as a personal statement. A statement of cool yet tough, or so I thought at the time. My Sinead O' Rebellion hormones kicked in and I went from one extreme haircut to the other: smooth as a baby's bottom clean-shaven, or growing out buzz cut with dreadlocks. I very often looked quite a sight. And not a pretty one at that. Whenever I sported a new hairdo, my mother would click her tongue and wag her finger and moved on. And she would complain to my grandmother but my grandmother, who is a very cool woman, would be unfazed and love me even though she could see her reflection on my hairless head.
Jay Zhou my son, if you are reading this, please cut your hair. I love you.
Mothers after all, live forever in hope.
I experiment my hair with multiple hairdos back when I was young (err..after high school)..and now grey hairs are everywhere...no thanks to the chemical content in all the dyes...
Posted by: Honey MJ | Monday, 09 October 2006 at 06:59 AM
Quite right NH, my hairy (or lack thereof) adventures continued even when my son was 7 years..hence it was 'hidden' underneath a tudung during the days. Nowadays my hair is the longest it has ever been since birth, so yes, we do grow up :) xx
Posted by: EmmaGoodEgg | Wednesday, 04 October 2006 at 04:44 PM
.. or he could wear a tudung like funky mothers would when they were young-er...
But in any case, I heard hair that looks like it's cut by only a commando knife and a "sesaban" is making a come back.
Keep up the funk.
Posted by: NH | Wednesday, 04 October 2006 at 06:32 AM