I don’t like having my haircut.
First of all, it seems like a terribly intimate thing for a complete
stranger to be doing to me: removing bits of my body. Ok, dead bits, but still!
Well, not strictly dead: non-living. It never was living. But still! They are
touching my head, moving me this way and that.
And they are talking to me. This too is a terribly intimate thing for a
complete stranger to be doing to me! And I maintain that they are complete
strangers, because I have my hair cut as rarely as possible. Even if it is the
same person again, they will not remember me. Usually it is not the same
person, because I go to one of those really cheap, quick hairdressers, and the
staff turnover is pretty high. So they ask me questions, and I try to answer,
but pretty soon the conversation withers. So now I am imprisoned in an
uncomfortable silence with a complete stranger. They will think I am unfriendly
and dull. The fact that I am
unfriendly and dull is beside the point. It hurts that (yet another) complete
stranger thinks so.
Before even the touching and (non-)talking begins, there is the
terrifying question: How would you like it cut? “Well,” my usual response is, in
an attempt at the same pathetic joke that I always try, and which, no doubt
they have heard from thousands of people before, “shorter.” What else am I
supposed to say? It’s what I want. I am really boring when it comes to hair. I
just want it shorter because, at the moment, it is too long. It gets untidy
when it is too long. It grows frizzy bits. It’s quicker and easier to wash when
it’s short. It doesn’t get untidy in the wind. I know that untidy seems to be
popular at the moment, and that achieving just the right appearance of
untidiness requires a great deal of skill and costs a great deal of money. But
untidiness is not for me, at least as far as my hair is concerned. And my
untidiness would almost certainly be precisely the wrong kind of untidiness. No.
Simple and low maintenance is for me.
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