I have been scalped. Literally. Not deprived of money or sold overpriced tickets.
No, I was scalped at a discount hair cuttery by a tiny Asian teenager who probably weighs less then one of my legs.It happened yesterday.
Let me backtrack for a moment, though.
Last week I got a haircut. While she was cutting my hair, the little Indian lady was talking a mile a minute about her mother in law, who lives with them and is apparently nutty as a fruitcake. She was wielding the scissors angrily, lambasting the caregiver who sat around all day doing nothing and would not even dust the TV. "She is LAZY!" I heard.
"Absolutely," I agreed.
When someone with very sharp scissors is standing over my head, and is angry, I will agree with ANYTHING they say.
She then asked me how I liked my haircut.
I put on my glasses and looked at the tufts of hair sticking out over my ears. "Can you trim those? They look weird," I asked, timidly. She sighed, grabbed the scissors, and did something else to that hair.
Now, I am blind as a bat without my glasses, and I don't wear my glasses during a haircut, so the end result is always a surprise.
The stylist [whose name is foreign and yet impossible for me to remember] whacked away with the scissors and started in on her no-good husband, and her lazy, slob daughter who won't wear deoderant. She was getting more and more agitated by the minute.
The clacking of the scissors seemed very loud for a few minutes.
I put on my glasses, decided not to complain more, paid and left.
For several days, I hated my head every time I looked in the mirror. HATED it. I had an interview on Thursday and I felt like I looked like an escaped mental patient. I came home furious.
Thursday and Friday were busy days and I didn't have time to get my hair cut again on Saturday, so I went to get it re-cute yesterday. Michael was horrified by the notion of me going back to Great Clips and confronting the little Indian lady. "You will hurt her feelings!" he said.
He cannot stand the thought of hurting anyone's feelings, my sweet boy.
So I agreed to just go to Fantastic Sam's and get the weird hair tufts trimmed back. We used to go to Fantastic Sams a lot, and then we decided we liked Great Clips better. Plus it's cheaper.
The young lady who greeted me was tiny. I mean, I'm 5'3, and I towered over her. She had long hair carelessly pinned back in a barrette, and it was black, but with streaks of reddish/blonde. Her voice was soft and she slurred her words a little bit. I explained what I wanted and sat down in the chair.
I took off my glasses. She wet down the hair and started cutting. It wasn't cutting, though, not really. I asked her what she was doing.
"Texturizing it with a razor," she answered. "It gives more body to the hair."
I sat there paralyzed while she continued doing this, all the while talking a mile a minute to one of the other stylists about their plans to go out clubbing.
I was not happy with the sounds coming from the back of my head, but I was paralyzed. She was tiny, yes, but she was holding an old-fashioned straight razor.
I couldn't say anything. I couldn't move. I was afraid to move my head for fear that razor would somehow cut me.
Irrational? Yes. I admit it.
I kept thinking, "I'm sure it will be fine. She's a professional. It will be fine.
"Um, my hair is naturally curly. I don't want the curl cut out."
"OK."
I don't know if there was a language barrier or a hearing issue, but she managed to cut every single bit of curl off my head.
I'm not vain about my hair. Back when it was long, I spent some money on it, and spent time every day styling it. I'll admit that. I was trying to snag a husband.
Now? I couldn't care less. My fashion goals now are simply this: Clean. Clothing without holes.
I do like my hair though. It's one of only two good features on my body, the other one being my eyes. Now people are noticing my eyes a lot more.
I still have hair. A little bit.
I'm going to save money on shampoo.
My mother usually praises my short haircuts. She took one look at this one and said, "Well, it will grow out."
Thanks. Thanks a lot.