Note to Self: Haircuts may be Hazardous
I went for a haircut last Saturday. If it had been my choice I wouldn't have gone until maybe next month, but my sister is here and, well, I simply can't stand nagging.
My sister is a mistress of the art of nagging: ever time she looked at me I got the feeling that my hair was hanging halfway down my ankles and looked like a haystack. (I've never seen a haystack, but I assume it's messy.) And, of course, she marshalled the rest of the family against me, so every time I went online to IM, I got messages from my mom and my sisters and brothers telling me to cut my hair. And if that weren't enough they also sent emails that pretty much boiled down to "Go ye unto all the hairdressers of the world and get thy hair shortened!"
And to cut a miserable story short--pardon the pun--I went to the hairdresser's last Saturday for a haircut.
I've said before that when I'm sitting in a barber's chair, I mysteriously lose whatever skills I ever had at Chinese. The last time I went, I was in So Hour and the hairdresser there knew all about it, so she interpreted my incoherence as a ticket to do as she pleased. I quite liked the result--but then she's been cutting the hair of my family down there for years and she knows what styles suit our head shapes.
Unfortunately, the hairdresser I went to this time, down in Hibiscus Place, wasn't quite so skilful. I said "short", since that's what my sister had been drilling into me. (When I take my own initiative about haircuts, I tend to end up looking as if I haven't been at all.) Now, with hindsight, I know I should've said "thin". But the damage is done.
In any case I remembered to tell her to leave my fringe long. It's my sole consolation, but not much since she chopped everything about 5cm long, and 5cm of fuzz just doesn't seem to go well with fringes that extend past the nose. As a result I'm now forced to brush everything up and to the back.
It's so bad that the first morning after I cut it, I looked in the mirror and thought Ju-On had been to the barber too. It looked that horrible. And then when I asked my sister (rather accusingly, too) she said I looked OK and told her friends to tell me I looked OK.
None of them disguised the tone of pity well enough to fool my ears. I've asked around, besides, and the look of shock on a person's face when they first see the cut is signal enough that the hairdresser went wrong somewhere.
And then the hairdresser seems to think she's in dire financial straits. While cutting, she was a constant stream of suggestions and advice about various treatments my head ought to undergo. Steaming, dyeing, curling, perming, you name it, she named it. And she even told me the prices. And when I told her I only had 20 in my wallet (my tactful way of trying to say no), she immediately offered to wash my hair, which bumped the total cost (cut and wash) up to 20.
(In my defense, I didn't know the wash would cost money. In the Big S washes are free and I thought the same applied here.)
In any case, I won't be putting up pictures of myself until I think my hair is a reasonably length again. And I will. Not. Be. Cutting. My. Hair. Soon! Although I might consider trying to blue it again.
My sister is a mistress of the art of nagging: ever time she looked at me I got the feeling that my hair was hanging halfway down my ankles and looked like a haystack. (I've never seen a haystack, but I assume it's messy.) And, of course, she marshalled the rest of the family against me, so every time I went online to IM, I got messages from my mom and my sisters and brothers telling me to cut my hair. And if that weren't enough they also sent emails that pretty much boiled down to "Go ye unto all the hairdressers of the world and get thy hair shortened!"
And to cut a miserable story short--pardon the pun--I went to the hairdresser's last Saturday for a haircut.
I've said before that when I'm sitting in a barber's chair, I mysteriously lose whatever skills I ever had at Chinese. The last time I went, I was in So Hour and the hairdresser there knew all about it, so she interpreted my incoherence as a ticket to do as she pleased. I quite liked the result--but then she's been cutting the hair of my family down there for years and she knows what styles suit our head shapes.
Unfortunately, the hairdresser I went to this time, down in Hibiscus Place, wasn't quite so skilful. I said "short", since that's what my sister had been drilling into me. (When I take my own initiative about haircuts, I tend to end up looking as if I haven't been at all.) Now, with hindsight, I know I should've said "thin". But the damage is done.
In any case I remembered to tell her to leave my fringe long. It's my sole consolation, but not much since she chopped everything about 5cm long, and 5cm of fuzz just doesn't seem to go well with fringes that extend past the nose. As a result I'm now forced to brush everything up and to the back.
It's so bad that the first morning after I cut it, I looked in the mirror and thought Ju-On had been to the barber too. It looked that horrible. And then when I asked my sister (rather accusingly, too) she said I looked OK and told her friends to tell me I looked OK.
None of them disguised the tone of pity well enough to fool my ears. I've asked around, besides, and the look of shock on a person's face when they first see the cut is signal enough that the hairdresser went wrong somewhere.
And then the hairdresser seems to think she's in dire financial straits. While cutting, she was a constant stream of suggestions and advice about various treatments my head ought to undergo. Steaming, dyeing, curling, perming, you name it, she named it. And she even told me the prices. And when I told her I only had 20 in my wallet (my tactful way of trying to say no), she immediately offered to wash my hair, which bumped the total cost (cut and wash) up to 20.
(In my defense, I didn't know the wash would cost money. In the Big S washes are free and I thought the same applied here.)
In any case, I won't be putting up pictures of myself until I think my hair is a reasonably length again. And I will. Not. Be. Cutting. My. Hair. Soon! Although I might consider trying to blue it again.
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