My cut in Myanmar was the only one I took pictures in. |
It's only been two months since the
stern woman in Thailand mowed my head-lawn, but I was eager to try a
haircut beyond the usual: make buzzing sounds while pointing at the
sides and back, then point at the top and hold fingers an inch apart.
I took a seat in a real-deal modern
hairdresser's chair, hardwood floors under orange and green-accented
walls, and Bobbi asked what I wanted. Oh. Um. If not The Usual
Haircut, then what? “You don't even know, you gonna leave it up to
me,” he said.
Bobbi reminded me of another cool cat who had cut my hair so that was fine by me.
The other two chairs held women whose
conversations revealed long-term relationships with their
hairdressers. They talked about how the vacation to Mexico went,
husbands, and a misadventure with some paint. I tried to chat with
Bobbi, and told him about the chiropractic work that comes with a cut in Nepal, but soon enough the pseudo-massage of getting my hair cut
lulled me into silence.
Now that was a chair. |
But there was one other thing. “I
have a pet peeve against ear hair,” Bobbi confided, as he jammed
the buzzer into my flappers, “It's just a part of gettin' older, we
start gettin' hair places we never expected to. I understand.” I
admitted that I appreciated the help, it's getting jungly in there in
my old age.
Then we were done and he held up the
mirror so I could see. To be honest I was looking for something a
little more...exciting; I kind of feel like I'm applying for an
office job; but I guess that's today's lesson, if you're going to
have preferences, you have to figure out what they are, even if you are scatterbrained and happy.
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