So I got my hair cut yesterday and now it looks like I have Pat Benatar hair. What year is it? That's what I ask myself when I look in the mirror.
It's not a big deal really because my hair grows so fast that it doesn't really matter but the thing is don't you find it weird how you can just look perfectly normal for months and months at a time and then one bad haircut can just screw everything up and it sets you on this mission of finding the right stylist, again, and in the process it's as if you're reliving every bad hair cut you've ever had.
I had found the perfect stylist. Johhny. Gay of course. Philippino. Excellent. Funny. Smart. Easy to talk to. He always made me look way better than I normally look in real life. Then one day. He just disappears. I go to make an appointment. Johnny no longer works here they say. It's as if the hairstylin' mafia got to him. No, they say, I'm sorry. I can't tell you where he is now! Like he's in the witness protection program or something.
It started at Sukis. That's where it all went down hill this time. Take out a loan before you go. They ask me if I want a junior stylist or a senior. I"m thinking it's Sukis. They're all trained right? I'll take the junior, I say. I should have asked, Does that mean they've actually ever cut anyone's hair, before,ever?
I get this sweet, cute, young little thing who's from Russia. And, that's the part I hate most about haircuts. I don't like making small talk at the best of times and to have to go sit in a chair, have some stranger with scissors prancing around me, having to make conversation with them, and then having to pay for that annoys me. It's too close. It's like why don't I just walk into a restaurant, take off all my clothes, lay on top of the table and start chit chatting with my neighbor, a stranger, whom I've never met. That's what it feels like to me.
So, I say to this sweet little thing, don't be afraid to cut it, it grows fast. I don't know if she was daydreaming or just afraid but at no point did she ever ask me, is this what you had in mind? At which point I would have said, No. You can actually use the scissors to cut it. But, she didn't ask and I didn't have the heart to say, when she was done, so when are you going to cut my hair? I come out of there looking like I had about a centimetre removed. Oh well. At least the colour looked good. She curled the ends to flip up. I looked like a member of one of those girl groups from the '60s. And, THAT doesn't match who I am. Not by a long shot. It's amusing though.
So, sure enough, less than a month goes by and my hair is now even longer than when I first went to get a haircut. So, out of desperation, having reached that point where I must get haircut now, immediately, right this second, I just randomly pick this place. It's empty. There's Iranian music playing. The woman seems nice enough.
I sit in the chair and I tell this woman about my experience at Sukis at which point she gets out whatever they use, a razor, and starts layering it. When I leave, it's 1979 all over again. Really. I look like Pat Benatar -or at least I have her hair. Why don't I just buy myself some leather while I'm at it.
I wouldn't really care if I didn't have some interviews coming up. But, you know what they say. People decide in less than 3 seconds whether they like you. If they don't like Pat Benatar, I'm screwed. And the thing is, I keep forgetting how old I am now. It's more likely they won't even know who she is.
Johnny where are you?
By the way, according to Wikipedia Pat Benatar lives with her family on Maui in a small isolated community and does organic farming.
Come to think of it,I wish I WAS Pat Benatar!