I am not even sure what I was thinking when I did that. I attended school that way, and I had the most embarrassing time of my life that day. It wasn't until I saw myself in the mirror that I fully realised what I had done to myself.
I am not sure about everyone else, but there are certain experiences that feel so therapeutic that you'd like to repeat them or have them last longer. An example would be having a body massage. I had someone do something similar for me one time, but little did I think that I was going to make a mess of myself the following day.
I had a lot of neighbours all around us while I grew up in the first environment I knew as a kid. There were houses beside, in front, and right behind us. But the stars of today's discussion are the kids that lived in the compound right behind us.
My neighbourhood was pretty much open, and most of us kids knew ourselves and hung out with ourselves often. And so one very day, they came visiting at my parent's house, and it was already really late at night until they left. Before they left, however, I had a trilling experience that I didn't want to end.
We were all watching television and sitting around, with some on the couches and some on the floor. I was lying on a couch with my head on one arm and my legs on the other and watching television while I had one of my neighbours' kids, a girl, touch my head and play with my hair in such a way that it felt soooo nice and real good. I didn't want her to stop whatever she was doing to make me feel that way, so I encouraged her to continue until further notice.
They were subtle yet scintillating touches that made me close my eyes as I was enthralled by the way my nerves were tingling with short pulses of signals sent through them by what this girl was doing. It was so sweet that I was somewhere between being asleep and being awake, if you know what I mean. And so it continued until they all had to leave for their own homes and parents.
The next day at school, I realised that people looked at me very funny. And after a couple seconds of looking at me, they'd burst into laughter. I caught the attention of most people because of the way I looked—because of the way my hair looked.
Apparently, my hair looked very much like a rat had enjoyed dinner over my head. It looked so absurd and unusual, and the sight of it was damn hilarious. What had happened the night before was that this girl who was giving me such an exciting experience was actually doing so with a scissor on my head.
I was aware that she had scissors over my head, and that was part of how she was "making me feel good." What I didn't think was that she practically used the scissors during that moment to take out portions of my hair. Little wonder it felt so nice. The experience was a bit familiar, as it was similar to how boys feel when we have our heads under clippers to cut our hair.
I don't know what on earth I was thinking. Surely, the feeling was so nice, but I didn't think it was because she was literally using the scissors to cut my hair. And that was so dumb of me to assume so gullibly.
I had one handkerchief around, and so I used that to cover the top of my head to hide my shame. Even doing that was embarrassing, considering that I was a boy and not a girl that would normally do that. And then I made it to my mother's shop alive.
When I got to my mother's shop, however, I was still feeling so shameful about it all and hid myself somewhere invisible from the crowd and customers that came around, and I stayed there for so many hours. And then, eventually, my mother took me to the salon to cut my hair properly.
Thinking more about it, I cannot help but think that my mother allowed me to go to school that way so I could have a bitter taste of the repercussions of my actions. She used to dress me to school then, and so there was no way I would have still looked handsome to her that wonderful morning she sent me to school.
When I saw the girl the next time, I confronted her. She defended herself like she should and said that I was the one who said that I was enjoying it and she should just continue on that faithful evening. Boy, oh boy, was I dumb!
