Not so long ago, my girlfriend intimated to me that after rocking the baldie for a year, she would try out a red, or pink or some screaming tint on her head. Thinking that that would make her look clownish, I blew it off as a sheer bluff. I should have known better. Last evening, she spared some time after work to drop by the saloon to do some fashion experiments on her head.
While in the kitchen preparing myself something for supper, a person I then thought was an intruder almost scared a wet fart out of me. With a head shimmering with three different colors like a crested crane, it took me a while to realize I was looking at my significant other. First I was baffled, thinking isn’t this a little too late for the Ug @50 celebrations? But then again the national colors are black, yellow, red not black, gold, red. That’s when I remembered a facebook update she had written earlier on concerning the hair style she was going to do. Breaking down in sadness, I whimpered; “What the fuck Mildred? What did you just do with your head?”
But with the calmness of a whistler, she simply assured me that I’ll get used to the new style but took no trouble to explain her self or the motivation behind her new look that rivals that of the ‘Enkola ya taxi hit maker’
Brooding over the tragedy, I wondered what I could have done to deserve the punishment, “maybe I’m just being local and ignorant about trends,” I thought, “but since when did Kusaasira start setting the trends?” Then I realized Mildred doesn’t need a reason to be Mildred. She will do whatever she wants however she deems fit and owes no explanation to anyone.
However, much as the fact the she strutted a skin head for a year should have prepared me for more eccentricities; nothing prepared me for this catastrophe. On which note, I denounce this clownish semblance and I have no intentions of getting used to it.
All my attempts to give a precise picture of what she had on her head having bounced off her look-all-the-fucks-I-give cloak; I’m contemplating adopting a few body modifications in protest. Something that will give her a glimpse of how it feels like to have the person that you love decidedly and adamantly looking like a joker and you have to put up with that shit.
I plan to start small and a giant nose ring seems appropriate.
Something less permanent, preferably a clip-on but must be the spiked type which is used to wean calves by preventing suckling.
This way, I won’t have to always walk ten meters ahead or behind her in public but the two of us will make a cute couple of clowns.
It’s however supposed to be a one week scheme, just until she gets really uncomfortable with my accessory that she decides to do something saner with her hair. But being the big headed girl that I know her to be, I have reasons to believe she will welcome the idea as some how-ridiculous-can-you-look competition, in Which case I plan to notch things up a little bit by taking more permanent measures like fucking up my face with deep incisions that will decorate my forehead with scars like those of a traditional Dinka,then we’ll see who’ll win!