Hi, I'm a simple guy—well, I was. My dad stays abroad for work and only visits us a few times a year. My sister, Riya, got married recently, and now it's just me and my mom. I’m jobless. I graduated two years ago with a BTech degree, but getting a job has been tougher than I imagined. I spent the first year applying for various positions, but no luck.
One day, after yet another failed attempt at a job interview, my mom took a vow that I wouldn’t cut my hair until I landed a job. It sounded silly at the time, but I agreed to it. Another year passed, and I gave up on finding a job. I decided to try my hand at a government job. After six months of waiting, my hair had grown well past my shoulders, and I could hardly keep it tied up properly. My mom, being the perfect homemaker, would always tidy up my hair in a neat ponytail every morning.
But there was a catch—my classmates started noticing. They would joke, calling me a girl for having such long, flowing hair. At first, I didn’t mind. After all, I was lean, not muscular, and I had a soft face. Everyone thought I was a girl, especially with my hair always tied up in a neat ponytail. But one day, I couldn’t take it anymore.
"Mom, I think I need a haircut," I said, standing in front of her with a furrowed brow.
My mom looked at me with concern. "Why, Beta? It’s a vow. You can’t break it until you find a job."
"I can’t do this anymore. My classmates tease me every day," I replied, my voice tinged with frustration.
She got furious. "A vow is a vow! You’re not supposed to break it!" she scolded. "I don’t see why you’re complaining. I make a ponytail for you every day—what’s wrong with it?"
I was silent. I couldn’t argue with her. She was so determined. I had never seen her angry like this. I sat down quietly, letting her finish brushing my hair. She tied it into a sleek ponytail and handed me my breakfast.
The days passed, and my hair continued to grow longer. One afternoon, Mom returned home with a bag from a beauty store.
"I bought something for you," she said, her voice a little too excited. She pulled out a variety of hair accessories: barrettes, hair claws, different-colored hair bands—things that were definitely on the more feminine side.
"Mom," I started, but she interrupted me before I could say anything further. "I know they seem girly, but you have no choice. You need to take care of your hair. You’ll look more presentable."
"But these are so... girly!" I said, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
She smiled at me. "You’ll get used to it. Just try them out."
Reluctantly, I agreed. Every day, she would carefully brush and tie my hair using one of the new accessories. The soft clips and colorful bands felt strange at first, but over time, I started getting compliments. Some of my classmates stopped teasing me. They would stare at my hair in awe. I realized that my mom was right—these little things made my hair look even better.
One day, I came back home late, exhausted after yet another long day of job hunting. I hadn’t realized that I still had my hair tied in a braid with a bright pink ribbon. As I entered the house, my sister, Riya, was sitting on the couch, looking at me strangely.
"Who’s the girl in the house?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.
I froze, unsure of how to respond. But Mom quickly intervened. "It’s your brother!" she said. "He’s been letting me braid his hair lately."
Riya was shocked. "I can’t believe you, Soha," she said with a mischievous grin. "You look so cute with those braids. You’ve been hiding a girl inside you all along!" She burst into laughter, and I could feel my face flush with embarrassment.
"Come on, stop it," I muttered, pushing my hair away from my face.
Riya took the opportunity to tease me more. "Honestly, you look better than I do with those braids. Maybe I should take tips from you!"
I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I was secretly enjoying the attention. It wasn’t so bad. Maybe they were right. Maybe I did look good like this.
As the months went by, my mom continued to take care of my hair. She would often bring me into her room for "pamper sessions." She’d wash and condition my hair, massaging my scalp gently, and then style it with delicate braids or a fancy updo. Sometimes, she would even curl my hair with soft rollers to add volume and bounce.
On one such day, Mom asked me to sit in front of the mirror while she tried a new style. She started by brushing my hair with a large, round brush. She then sectioned it into small pieces, curling them with a curling iron. As each strand curled and bounced, she added a little bit of hairspray, making sure every curl stayed in place.
I couldn’t help but feel like a princess. Mom was so meticulous, so gentle with me. As she finished curling the last section, she pulled my hair back into a loose, low bun and pinned it in place with a jeweled hairpin.
"There," she said, smiling at her handiwork. "Perfect."
I was mesmerized by the way my hair looked—so soft, bouncy, and voluminous. "Mom, you’re amazing," I said, my voice filled with awe.
She laughed. "It’s nothing. Just wait until I start with the makeup."
I had never been interested in makeup, but Mom had always been passionate about it. She would often ask me to try on different makeup looks. One day, she decided to give me a makeover. She started with foundation, applying it smoothly with a sponge, making my skin look flawless. Then, she moved on to the eyes. She used a soft brown eyeshadow and lined my eyes with black eyeliner, making them pop. She added a bit of mascara, making my lashes long and voluminous.
"Just a bit of blush to give you some color," she said, applying a soft pink hue to my cheeks. "And now for the lipstick."
She chose a soft, nude pink shade that complemented my skin tone. As she applied it, she stepped back to admire her work.
"You look beautiful," she said, smiling at me. "Absolutely gorgeous."
The next day, when I went to meet my friend, Maya, she couldn’t stop staring at me. "Soha, what’s going on with you? You look like a completely different person!" she exclaimed.
I blushed, feeling a little self-conscious. "It’s just Mom," I said, shrugging. "She wanted to try something different."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "You look so much more confident now. I’m impressed!"
From that moment on, I started feeling a little different. I started enjoying how my hair looked, how I felt when I wore makeup, and how everyone noticed me. I got more attention, but it wasn’t the teasing kind. It was admiration. People saw me as someone who took care of themselves, someone who was beautiful and confident.
But things took an unexpected turn when my mom invited Riya and her friends over for a gathering. As I sat in the living room, listening to their conversation, Riya came up to me and whispered, "Soha, I have something for you." She handed me a small box.
Curious, I opened it, only to find a pair of delicate silver earrings and a necklace. "What’s this?" I asked, a bit confused.
"For your makeover," she said with a smile. "You’re going to rock this look."
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