My reflection in the the mirror

Since moving to this new house, I have been using the kitchen as my study area instead of my room upstairs. My bedroom feels too big, drab, stuffy, dark, and I have better internet connection here; the router (or however you call it) is directly an arm’s length from where I am seated now.

Tonight, for the first time, I noticed my countenance (such fancy word!) reflected in the glass window in front of me. I’ve gained weight since I arrived here. I consume on average 3000 calories every day and I hardly visit the gym because of my tight schedule in school and my homework that pile up faster than I can get rid of them. If not for the regular push-ups and ab crunches I do every 15 minutes, then for sure all those definitions I worked hard to achieve will give way to the flabs that take minimal effort to gain.

I also have grown my hair long since I cannot afford to part with my 15 dollars to pay the barber. This is the longest time I have gone without a haircut. I look odd; my head feels heavy. My unusually curly, more correctly, kinky, hair is beginning to take charge and dictate on me the rules of its daily upkeep. I spend more than ten agonizing minutes each day styling it and making sure it stays in this position during most part of the day.

I have also been growing mustache in order to look, I don’t know, sleek. And seriously mature. It’s itchy but I feel relieved it has not led to a pimple break-out so far. I suppose spring here helps. The air is dry so my skin remains dry the whole day; there’s much less dust hence the pores of my face are not clogged. The result, a much clearer skin.

I also want to add that diet may also play a crucial role. Vegetable and fruits are a staple in every meal.

I sounded vain in the previous three paragraphs or so. But it’s the fault of the glass window before me. I would never have been conscious had the table been placed somewhere. Now, it’s the table.

Man is one of the few creatures on this planet conscious of his existence and how this existence render changed and never-the-same-again everything and everyone around him.

This awareness, by the way, also changes him.



Though I had repeatedly heard complaints from you these past days about your hair that ‘badly needs trimming’, I didn’t see it coming when you blurted ‘Babe, you got to cut my hair’.

The idea was ridiculous. And I would not do it. Not until I saw a reflection of myself in the mirror holding a pair of craft scissors, directing each movement of the dull, Chinese-made shearers toward your jet black, perfectly straight hair.

I closed my eyes and did a deep dive, so they say. Somersaulted, in fact.

After almost two months of being together, I am still yet to acquire that resolve to say ‘no’ to your every request and impossible-to-resist goading. I am like a husband to a woman in her first three months of pregnancy, bewitched and under her spell, doing whatever it takes just to provide whatever frivolous request his wife can think of.

And so we were in that funny position for almost an hour–you sitting on my feet, almost motionless, and me cutting your hair with the attention and supposed precision of a watch repairman, taking pictures and videos of your hair at intervals so you would have an idea as to the extent of atrocity I was inflicting on your hair. I, unfortunately, only got one mirror in my room.

I didn’t tell you this before we parted this afternoon, but I love the act of cutting your hair because you were still the whole time, didn’t move your head, so unlike me when I was seven (and occasionally of late) whenever I visited the village barber or have my haircut in the nearby barber shop, my do being nothing but plain hair shave, as you’d sardonically refer to it afterward. I would tilt my head several degrees away or toward the barber to spite him; I would do everything to enrage him so he’d dismiss me asap.

While this afternoon, as you patiently waited for your haircut to be over, I saw a docile, almost child-like, version of you which I have not seen before.

And I guess, this is what I have been looking forward to each day: knowing You, and being caught unprepared and smiling, or chuckling, by the surprises of learning new things about the person I love so much, you.

By the way, you look great in your new do. However, I insist on taking you tomorrow to the salon where I regularly have my haircut.

See you tomorrow, oh…later.