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October 20, 2005
Hair
I've always wanted to categorize my blogs, but could never sort them neatly into particular subjects. But I think that if I ever do categorize them, one category will have to be "hair."
I went in to get a couple inches hacked off today. The stylist I usually go to now has an assistant to wash hair for her. This was a different assistant than last time, though. And observing people deal with my hair for the first time is, as I have mentioned before, an experience. My latest interaction went something like this:
Rinsing down my hair with the sprayer thingy.
Hair Washer Girl: Looks like the sun's going to come out today.
Me: (Can't figure out what on earth she's talking about because it's cloudy and cold out.) Yeah, hopefully... it was pretty cold this morning.
Hair Washer Girl puts a handful of shampoo in my hair, begins to work it in, pauses... pumps out another handful of shapmoo, starts scrubbing.
Hair Washer Girl: You working today?
Me: Nope, I'm in the process of looking for a job. (I know I should add something to this statement in the effort to make a good conversation, but I don't know where to start and really don't feel like bearing my soul to a girl I've never met before.)
Hair Washer Girl begins the process of rinsing out the shampoo.
Hair Washer Girl: "Man, you have more hair than is necessary!" (Couldn't hold it in any longer, I guess.)
Me: Yeah.
Conditioner. Rinse.
I went back and sat in the chair to get trimmed up. The lady beside me sat underneath one of those enormous blow-driers that looks more like an alien mind-reading device.
"I had hair just like that before I had my first son," she informed me. I looked over to see her hair in massive clumps, spiked with colored goo, and her eyebrowns covered with the same stuff. "It was so curly, and now it's bone straight."
"I'll have to take that into consideration," I replied, trying not to laugh at the whole situation.
At long last, enough of my hair covered the salon floor to make a small wig, though there was plenty remaining on my head. My stylist gave me the lowdown on their new products while throwing handfuls of one of each of them into my hair. I told her I didn't need to purchase any, avoiding telling her that I'm quite loyal to Suave gel.
Once out the door of the salon and back in the privacy of my own car, I checked out the finished product in my mirror. Decent. Shorter, that's what I wanted. Shampoo gets expensive when you have to use half a bottle every time you wash your hair. Maybe I should try a different salon next time. The syling could be better. But I'm not sure I want to know how bad my hair could look, either. Like I said, though -- every haircut is an experience.
Posted by Megan at October 20, 2005 12:21 PM
Comments
And THAT is what awkwardness is all about!
Posted by: Pat at October 21, 2005 12:43 AM
Have you ever gone to Great Clips and they ask you what number clipper you use? "Umm... 42?"
Posted by: Scott at October 21, 2005 10:15 AM
"like an alien mind-reading device"
"looked over to see her hair in massive clumps, spiked with colored goo, and her eyebrowns covered with the same stuff."
"At long last, enough of my hair covered the salon floor to make a small wig, though there was plenty remaining on my head. My stylist gave me the lowdown on their new products while throwing handfuls of one of each of them into my hair."
We may not have [long-term] jobs yet, but at least there's the English major... ;-) Sounds wonderfully reminiscent of an Eliot draft.
Posted by: Laura at October 21, 2005 09:37 PM
I agree, Megan...about the English thing...I read your "bio" for the band (or at least Matt said you wrote the majority or something like that?)...I was totally impressed! Dude! You are good with words!
Posted by: Nancy at October 26, 2005 11:16 PM