Fashion Tales of Blackwidow’s Hair

Working for a man is like working with an enemy. Mama was right. No man could ever dominate me and will definitely rebel against a feeling of suppression, discrimination, disrespect, distrust, and all attributes imprinted in my memory cells through years.
So I quit the job without the formalities (which means I just disappeared on him). And I did it heartbroken. The pitty-party lasted for an hour (one of my unique qualities on getting over).
The party usually starts with cursing induction. Self Pitty becomes the highlight of the event, followed by you’ll-fuckin-pay treat. Finally, it ends with I’ll-make-it end session. Big lessons I’ve learned in life is that you can’t completely entrust your life and hold on to a hand. When the ship starts sinking, the other would let go to save oneself.

Since I’m still under oath my social experiment, I posted a big paper map to document my daily abstinence, that including if I have performed a physical activity or smoked a cigarette that day. As it always has been, along every life changes, my fashion style seemed to be significantly influenced by it. To start with, I grew up with my mom’s fascination for boy-cut and then the egyptian style. I’ve never been to a hairstylist before so you could imagine how catastrophic that was. Moving a big leap forward, most of the changes usually start with critically chosen hairstyle, and then an overall make over to consequently go along with it.

When I went back in Sales a few years ago, my life was living the havocs of vulnerability. Choices were made out of taste for desperation. The equation lead me to rock chic + corporate world = Emo style. 

My gay friends could barely take the color combination, weird preferences for clothes pairing and how I wore them. It’s not really cheap (that’s what I thought) but weird and unconventional styling…like where on earth did I come from.

So they did their first project, starting with going out on the first concert I attended in my whole life..

After a year of putdown and grunging away the remnants of my closet with new me, I started working my way into sales. The family had accepted me and became in one with I considered brothers..

Then..It was a whirlwind strings of dating and affairs.. all of which ended into a hair style that has to be thrown.

..And there’s more just not enough to fill in space..

The Blackwidow finally nested into her web, writing every tarred goodies from her experiences..settling for unfit broken pieces so I may not forget..

This is now.. a work in progress for so long I am about to change. So I’m getting my scissors and hair color ready for a new masterpiece..

Posted by therealblackwidow on June 13, 2012

https://therealpursuitoftheblackwidow.wordpress.com/2012/06/13/fashion-tales-of-blackwidows-hair/