Back in 1996 when I was in 4th year high school I started telling the girls in my class, in many, separate occasions because they kept on doing the damn thing repeatedly, that they should not comb their hair in front of me, or any guy, or any person for that matter. Of course they would forget and do it repeatedly. They had asked me many times why, but I never had the heart to tell them. I wasn’t being prissy or mysterious, but I just couldn’t get myself to tell them why. I remember that Ayla Ranzza Timberwolfalfa, exasperated at my supposedly pa-mysterious effect, accused me of getting a boner when I see her comb her hair– she actually used more piquant terms than “get a boner”. Well, Ayla Ranzza Timberwolfalfa, the gall, of all people to accuse me of having a strange fetish.

I don’t know why nobody has figured out, even now when I tell this incident to my female friends, for all their college and post-graduate and medical and sub-specialty medical degrees, that when a pubescent high school girl in loose-sleeved high school uniform combs her hair she exposes her kinda gross bushy drippy armpit to the guy in front of her. Baka naman sinasadya mo talagang silipin, you snootily accuse. But maybe we can parallel this to that incident in the street when someone points out that there’s a really disgusting strangely- configured mooshy yellow goop of a cat’s crap and we give it a half-second peripheral glance instinctively.  

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