Thursday, July 26, 2007

Being Manny Pacquiao – June 2006

Hi, I'm Hot Mama and I’m a parlor addict. I simply love the smell and feel of a salon....simply cannot resist the urge of being pampered and taken cared off. When a new shop hits town, I immediately book an appointment and check out the service offerings. When I change jobs, I scout for the nearest parlor within the vicinity. When work becomes too stressful, I make a quick respite; have a 30 minute back massage combined with a manicure. Voila… I’m a brand new person.

I’m an expert at the art of multi-service handling. When pressed for time, one would find me having the combination of hair treatment/coloring, foot spa, hand paraffin, threading, all at the same time. That’s what I call my wellness package express which my beauty team mastered after all these years. My regular therapists know the cue once I enter the salon premises. At a given time, 3 of them simultaneously and diligently engage in beautifying me. For a neophyte beautician, I’m the ultimate test and breakthrough in managed services.

Indeed, I’m a parlor girl with exquisite preferences. It’s both an art and dependency that co-exist with my being. Not even the twelve (12) steps can make me give up the habit.

The Barber’s Cut

After being singled again, I’ve been delinquent in my beauty regiment. Work and family demands made me negligent of this. I especially miss the winning team of Alex, my gay stylist; Dolly – my foot and hand treatment expert (a master in the art of in-grown nail removal); and Alma, my back therapist. In my past life, a minimum of twice a week visit would equate to depravation.

Recently, identified priorities made me consider my options. Facts were evaluated:

Fact # 1: Weekdays are for work.
Fact # 2: Weekends are for errands and bonding moments for the boys.
Fact # 3: Time for such luxuries is limited or non-existent.

If schedule permits, I can do a salon visit during lunch breaks….NOT! It doesn’t work that way. No matter how hard I make time for this, it simply wasn’t happening.

Drastic circumstances require drastic measures, if I intend to keep my sanity in tact. The shift needed to happen. To maximize my ‘bonding’ moments with my boys, I opted to do the unimaginable for a ‘Cosmo’ girl like me….. I paid a visit to my boys’ barbershop. Besides, how different can it possibly be from my regular salon? A lot!

On my first visit, I was greeted by a lady named Gloria. Immediately, her face was puzzled when I inquired about their services. “Madam, pati ba si Sir mag-papaservice kasabay ng mga bata?” She asked. (Madam, will the mister be joining the boys this time?)

“Ah, hindi. Patay na si sir. Ako ang makikisabay,” I replied (“Oops, no. The mister passed away already. It’s me who will be joining the boys.”)

As expected, Gloria was stunned with my response but was quite enthusiastic when she briefed me with the on-going promo offerings they have.

Services offered were:

Hair Cut P140
Hair Cut w/ Shampoo P180
Shave P150
Ladies Haircut P180
Shampoo P110
Blowdry P110
Shampoo & Blowdry P180
Manicure P150
Pedicure P150
Hair Dye P650/900 (depends on hair length)
Hair Relaxing P690/900
Hot Oil P350/450
Ear Cleaning Therapy P135
Facial Treatment P350
Hypoallergenic Facial P730
Body Massage P320/420yup yup

Back or Foot Massage P175
Foot Spa w/ Scrub and Pedicure P475

As a come on, they were offering nose and ear hair clipping free of charge for every service amounting to P300.00 and above. “WOW! What I deal?! Talk about value add,” I thought to myself.

Rates are much lower than the salons yet I was skeptical on how they execute their facial treatment and hypoallergenic facial in a barbershop. I settled with the hot oil treatment and foot spa, without the nose hair trimming. I was introduced to Mang Roger who will give me my hair treatment while Mang Rudy will take care of my feet.

As I was escorted to the shampoo area, I passed through inquisitive eyes of male customers. Most of them were middle aged men with paunchy bellies. Others were snoring themselves away while having their ear wax removed. The rest were either having a shave, a cut, or hair dye. There were some who were simply checking out the limited choices of reading materials. Yup, the barbershop is into deep literature called FHM.

The feel of two genuine males doing my hair and feet was awkward, especially when they possess the looks of Max Alvarado. Most of the staff resembled character actors or contrabidas straight out of an FPJ flick. I think I will skip the wax this visit.

Nevertheless, they were courteous, professionals, enthusiasts who were eager to please. Don’t mind coming back for another visit. This place is ideal for me and the boys to have barbershop talks while grooming ourselves.

In this corner….

During the last Pacquiao vs. Barrera match, the boys and I decided to take advantage of the pay per view offerings at the barbershop. It was perfect. While the boys wait for their turns for their respective cuts, they can watch the match, while I can take a breather while enjoying my regular treatments.

I did my homework and briefed them on who d’Pacman was and his then opponent. The whole country eagerly waited for this fight and since… have been following d’Pacman’s career even before this match. Not to be outdone, I enrolled Chiqui Boy in one on one boxing sessions to sharpen his knowledge of the sport. Besides, Hot Mama was serious about her boxing skills. She took it up as part of her anger management therapy.

Apparently, it wasn’t only the awesome threesome who had this plan in mind. When we reached the barbershop, it was jam packed with fathers and sons all eager to witness the fight, one trying to outdo the other with how acquainted they are with the Filipino hero.

Fortunately, I found seats for my boys along with the others patiently waiting for their turn with the barber. The shop’s owner prepared for this event well, positioning a couple of benches right in front of the TV monitor.

Since the adult seats were taken by the fathers, Hot Mama had to settle having a back massage on this awkward looking massage chair with head hidden from the rest of this male dominated world.

Footages of d’Pacman’s humble beginnings and previous victories were shown while waiting for the main event to start. A debate erupted among the boys…

Chiqui Boy: “ You know, my mama can do that. She can punch hard and can box anything and anyone.”

Brat #1: “ Totoo ba yan? Girl ang mama mo di ba?” (“Is that for real, your mom is a girl right?”)

Chiqui Boy: “It’s true… she can do 10 rounds of mitts and can do fancy moves with the jump rope.”

Brat #1: “Di totoo yan. Liar ka! Papa lang ang may kaya nun. Gusto mo i-knock out ng papa ko mama mo?” (“That’s not true, only fathers can do that. You want, I’ll ask my dad to beat up your mom.”)

Chiqui Boy (struggling through his sobs): “I’m not a liar! My mama can beat up your papa. You wait and see.”

Brat Pack: “Liar! Liar!”

Moymoy: “Mama, Mama!! Where are you?! The boys are bullying kuya. HELP!!!

In my fittest form, complete with manicured long nails, long/black extensoed hair, matching long dark eye lash extensions, I stood from the massage chair and made myself visible to the brat pack and the surrounding fathers. All eyes were anticipating what would happen next.

“I want to talk to your dad NOW! Also, no one calls my son a liar!” I threatened with full self control and poise.

Out of no where… a bald, short, pudgy Asian looking man appeared. “ Ah, Mrs., pasensya na kayo at mga bata lang ang mga yan. (My apologies, you know how boys can be.) Washington, apologize to the lady and to the boy,” he scolded his son.

“But, Dad… she’s a girl. Can’t you fight her?”

“Son, can’t you see, I can’t fight with somebody like that. I can’t give that lady a black eye. She’s too pretty.”

“E bakit si Mommy…” (How come with Mom…)

“Shush…keep quiet…”

He pulled Washington aside, hastily and apologetically bid us good bye.

The obvious learned...

1. Men do not beat up women.
2. We're heroes to our children, just make sure we're the right kind.
3. Looks can definitely kill.
4. Never name your child Washington, your child will never forgive you for it.



Hot Mama in training... December 2005

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