I Got My Hair Did

If we are friends on Facebook, you would have seen that I chopped my hair off. I took some selfies. Selfie taking is a fine art. There is the double chin to avoid, the duck lips that don't look like duck lips, the making sure that there is no reflection behind you indicating what your body posture is (most likely tilted and twisted in some uncomfortable shape to make your face look its thinnest) and of course, the post production editing that involves sifting through the 50 takes done in black and white (because that is flattering). It's a lot of work. Kim Kardashian, come up here and accept your diploma. I was able to get a couple of good shots considering my T-Rex arms wouldn't go any further. Stupid short arms.

I'm not proud of my selfie  but atleast black and white hides some of my shame

So anyway, I got my hair did. I hate going to get my hair cut. And it really is all my fault. I treat my hair like crap. Blonde today? Brunette tomorrow. Every time I visit a salon, the hairdresser will examine my strands much like one would examine a cut tree for its rings. I see blonde, I see red, I see bad life choices. Anyway, on Friday afternoon at work, I decided suddenly that I had to get my hair cut and I was not going to wait. It has been almost two years since I have had my hair cut because the last time was especially traumatic. But it was time. 

I see..... Sun'In

I left work and headed to my hood in search of a place that would take me on a Friday afternoon. I walked into on salon that seemed relatively trendy were I to be an extra on the original Beverly Hills 90210. I walked in and waited for someone to approach me kindly. Instead, a woman working on a young man (giving him the Hitler cut. Is that in among the young'uns today?) yelled above the din of hair dryers to ask me what I needed.

"I don't have an appointment"
"Whhhaaaaat?" gesturing to the coal powered dryer
"I DON'T HAVE AN APPOINTMENT"
"What's your name?"
"I DON'T HAVE AN APPOINTMENT!"

She walked away from Himmler - the early years - and consulted her book.

"I don't see your name"
"I know... I DON'T HAVE AN APPOINTMENT!"
"It is Friday afternoon..." and then she laughed a mocking laugh.

Good luck with that, Tova

As I walked out I could hear her mocking me "SHE WANTED TO GET A HAIRCUT ON A FRIDAY AFTERNOON!! Bahahahahaha"

I almost cut her. With tears in my eyes, I headed down the street and spied a shop. Two women were getting perms and without even thinking, I walked in.

"I need a haircut" I said, pleadingly holding a print out of a cute bob.
"We are kind of busy" the woman behind the counter said.
"I really really need one" I pleaded. And I guess she saw the despair in my eyes so she said
"Fine. Take a seat."

I thanked her and sat down. After a minute she came by and looked at the photo I had brought.

"Your hair is too wavy for that cut"
"I know. But do what you can.I just need a cut"

She nodded. She understood. It was a moment.

As she started cutting, she asked "Does your partner know how short you are going?" The feminist in me restained myself and I admitted "no".

She said "Well, he will be surprised" and I nodded, desperate to get my hair did.

After 45 minutes in the chair, I was done. And I was free. Getting this haircut was liberating. The Husband did end up loving it but that is probably because I placed my foot on his neck until he said so. What's that quote? Oh yes "A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life." Amen.