January 19, 2003 - 12:51 pm
I think you are all pretty well aware of the fact that I’m a rather straight-forward person. I tend not to beat around the bush and I’m not usually one to withhold information for any reason. I’m a proponent for free speech (especially when I’m speaking) and I don’t think anyone should hold back because of what other people might think.
All that being said…I’ve been sitting on a secret for a whole day. It’s not really secret in that “juicy/scandalous” way but more in that “I’m too ashamed to talk about it” way. I feel, though, that it would be out of character for me to keep it hidden forever. I expect other people to come clean with me so I should expect the same of myself. So…here goes…
I got a haircut yesterday and it only set me back $11.50.
Worst part?
It was one of the best haircuts I’ve ever received in my entire life.
Even worse?
I like it so much I’ll probably go back to her.
Lucy. Her name is Lucy. She’s a roly-poly little Hispanic woman. My appointment (which I made an hour earlier! Who knew you could even do that!?!) was at 2 o’clock. I arrived at 1:50. She arrived at 2:05 and sat in the backroom, clearly in view, chatting with her co-workers until 2:20. When I finally got into the chair she asked me what I wanted, told me what she wanted and then yelled at me for having product in my hair. She yelled at me. And told me that she now had to wash my hair and that was going to cost me another three dollars. While washing my hair the topic of conversation flip-flopped between my education and the fact that I shouldn’t have had gel in my hair and that it was going to cost me another three dollars. When she asked exactly what it was that I go to school for and I told her she yelled “Web design! Yes! Designing the web so popular today!” Out of the wash room and back in the chair, Lucy was ready to go. She had twenty minutes till her next customer and I was pretty damn certain that she hoped to have me out in ten. She grabbed the clippers and asked what size blade I wanted. This is where the story gets thick.
Kim used to cut my hair with the clippers but I never had to pay any attention, as she always knew exactly what to do with me. When I moved here and started going to other salons, they didn’t even use clippers. Suffice it to say, I had no idea what size I wanted. But then I remembered what My Straight Boyfriend had told me (He was actually the one who recommended this place)! He said that he got his cut with a size 2 blade. “Id’ like a two” I said. “No. You like a one” she said. “But I don’t really want it to be that short. Is a one very short?” At this point I’m almost entirely certain that she could smell my fear. “You like a one. A one not too short. Not like a zero. I do a zero if you not want a one.” Not being completely moronic, I was pretty sure that a zero was not what I wanted. I conceded. Out came the one. Now, of course, I can’t see a damn thing when I’m having my haircut because I don’t have my glasses on. She made one buzz and then asked me how it looked. I put my glasses on and almost had a heart attack right then and there. I had never seen my hair so short in my entire life. Never. I hated it and it was all Lucy’s fault. But you know how it goes. You can take hair off but you can’t put it back on, so she continued. The whole time I’m thanking all things holy that I can’t see a damn thing. I didn’t want to witness the massacre that was taking place on my head. Lucy and I talked idly for the next ten minutes and I learned that she is from New Jersey, but has lived in Orlando for 15 years now and that she loves it here. She was actually quite sweet if you get past her rough exterior. I stopped putting half of my energy towards hating her and put all one hundred percent towards worrying about what the fuck my hair was going to look like.
She finished up and took a large brush, saturated it with baby powder and, without any warning, whacked me across the face with it. This, I assumed, marked the end of my time with Lucy. The final moment. All I had to do was put on my glasses and assess the damage and I was done.
You already know how the story ends because I already told you that I love it. The sides are far shorter than anything I would have chosen had I actually had any say in the situation, but I do like it. See?
PS…I just realized that that picture serves three purposes :
1. To show you just how short my hair is on the sides.
2. To show you just why it is that I need to get my nose done and FAST!
3. To show you my new “Mountain Man” look.
Ta da
