Friday, January 16, 2009

Hairdresser Chair Blues

As I sat in the hairdresser's chair yesterday, the same old feeling of dread washed over me. How do I want my hair cut? I don't know, you tell me what suits me, you're the hairdresser. I give him a rough idea of what I want, watching his face stay carefully neutral. He repeats what he thinks I want. I correct him so he attempts to garrote me with that little paper collar that serves to hold the prickly bits of cut hair tightly against your neck for maximum itchyness. He follows up with another attempt at strangulation with the protective cape.

The cut begins with him wetting down my hair and slicking it down with a comb. He then begins blunt cutting the bottom edges. Oh goodness I look like Adolf Hitler! I ponder the timing of voicing my concerns that I think this is all going to end in tears? I hold my fears in as he moves onto shaping the back, this seems more hopeful. Bugger, he's cut the sides too short, but then again, it doesn't look too bad. The fringe has a definite Beatle-esque appearance, do I resemble an older Paul McCartney fan?

I part with $25 and leave the salon feeling the start of the the million little hairs itch and a strange coldness about my neck. I think I hate the haircut, I always do.

Oh well, it will all grow out and in another three months when I have almost forgotten the trauma I will subject myself to it all over again. The best incentive for a haircut is to start with a shampoo; that head massage makes the rest of the ordeal almost worthwhile.

2 comments:

  1. I start with the color....had one set for tomorrow but will cancel now......I concentrate on having outrageous colors through it and then I can cope with the cut.
    Thanks for your visit. I am going to have to make another one of those music quilts

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  2. Oh dear since then I have had a horrible hair cut and even the lovely color deal has not made it easy to manage. Moral of the story...if my hairdresser is not available I will trim it myself. I do a far better job with no long term ill effects than the bird who fussed over me like a Father stuck delivering a baby......and left me with wisps after I said no to all those photos.
    The real hairdresser tried to trim it a little but the odd bod did such a job on me....it will just have to grow.

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