She And I

The Day I Cut My Hair

It was night. It was peaceful by the lakeshore.

I was beside a woman of fair hair and skin. Her blonde hair and blue eyes were shining under the moonlight. Her smile was simply perfect. It was no longer the same as the first time I saw her. It was the best.

She touched my hair. Then she gave me a confused look. "What's with the short hair, Frida? And why is it purple?"

"I just liked it this way. New hair. New chapter." I replied.

"It actually suits you. I like it."

"You mean I look better when I look like a man..." I joked her.

"Well, we can actually look like a legitimate couple now." Then she laughed.

"Awww... You're just sweet." I went closer to her face.

But as we were about to share one romantic moment, there was a blackout.

"ANNA! WHERE ARE YOU?" I shouted. I got up of bed, went to the bathroom.

She was not there.

I went back to my room. Then I noticed that it was already past 10 in the morning. I looked at the mirror, and noticed that I still those curls on my hair. It was not short. It was not spiky.

I sighed. "It was just a dream. Weird." I shook my head just to make sure I'm still living in the world of reality.

But what was it all about?

I looked at myself again. I was facing this redhead who just went through a hard time. It was the same redhead who used to fall for a man that made her lose her worth. But it was also the same redhead who let fate take its course by falling for a woman, her best friend.

It was that same best friend that I've been dreaming of every night since 1968. It was the same woman who told me that I looked better with my short hair in my dream.

Why not give it a try, Frida?

You said it yourself "New chapter. New hair."

I even wondered why guys leave me. What if I play the role of a man? I mean a man who still wears female clothes, but will fight for the woman he loves.

What, like you and Anna? It might actually look good. Who cares?

I tried to re-evaluate myself. Would cutting my hair make me happy? Would Anna be pleased?

So I decided to cut my hair. It would be best that way. Should I dye it? I don't think so. Probably, soon.

I went to the salon. People were looking at me. It was literally all eyes on me. They were assuming that I was about to pour out all of my heartbreak through my hair.

A woman approached me. She was my usual hairstylist. "Didn't you just dyed and curled your hair months ago?"

"I want you to cut it." I whispered to her.

"What?" She loudly replied. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You better cut it for tomorrow's shoot."

"Is this still about him?" The hairdresser knew, of course.

"Kind of...but there's someone else..." I replied. "Are you ready to cut it short?"

"Seriously?" She paused. "I mean...sorry. Okay. If that's your wish, any last words to your hair?"

"Goodbye? I guess." I awkwardly replied.

So I was telling her why I wanted to cut my hair. I told her about my dream when someone liked my hair short. Of course, I never mentioned that it was her.