Saturday July 19 2014

Her killer hair

By Eugene Mugisha

The dynamics that define friendships amongst the fairer sex are strange indeed; Girls are plain horrible friends, there is no other way to put it. They are thin-skinned.

They are hypocrites through and through. Of course we all know this, but you cannot help but marvel at the depth of deception when you experience them close up.

About three weeks ago, I was out with Elle and her friends. It was just me and a bunch of girls, and I had switched off ages ago because I couldn’t keep up with them. They switch topics so fast, and so randomly, at times talking about different unrelated topics at the same time.

I was blissfully lost within the first few minutes. So, I lay back and enjoyed the music. They seemed to be having fun and that was enough for me. At some point, another friend of theirs joined them.

There was something strange about her, I couldn’t quite put my finger to it until they all started ooing and ahh-ing about her hair. Yes, it was the hair. It was bizarre; she had her hair piled on top of her head, the thing resembled a bee hive, with things poking out here and there.

To me, it looked like a total disaster; I was wondering what she was doing walking around with that thing on her head.

But, apparently not so according to the girls. They were all touching it, and congratulating her about her brand new hairstyle, saying how she was going to “rock the town, and leave guys drooling”. And oh yeah, she was enjoying it.

Then, she took off to the ladies, and there was a moment of silence as the girls looked at each other in disbelief and burst out laughing. That was it! It turned out they too found her hair ridiculous. For the few minutes she was gone, they asked each other where on earth she had got the idea from, and which salon had done that “thing”!

One suggested that she had done it in the slums, since that is the only place one could get off with something like that.

And another said she had got a boyfriend from a certain part of the country; that those men had a strange sense of fashion, and demanded it of their women.

So, now without warning, the topic turned to her new man. They started outguessing each other, trying to figure out where he is from, what he does, and why she had gone for a man so short.

It was as if they had forgotten I was there, or they simply didn’t care what I thought. Elle herself was in the middle of describing his “funny” shoes when Miss Bee Hive Hair returned, waltzing like a prom queen. And it was back to envying her for pulling off that “killer look”.

Now that I knew what was going on, I could see the hypocrisy in their eyes. And what got me baffled was that girl; the way she seemed to believe everything.

Was she that naive about her friends, and girls in general or was she also playing the pretense game, playing along for the sake of friendship? Or did she honestly and blindly (literally) believe her hairdo was killer?

Later that evening, Elle couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculous hair style of that girl she called her friend.

Am sure all the other girls were busy laughing their pretty heads off, and none of them, not even Elle whom I consider quite civilised, thought a friend could tell about a colossal misstep like that!