9 Oct 07
I hate having my hair cut! I’ve tried to convince myself over the years that I’m politically opposed to short hair (which is partially true) and that I refuse to financially contribute to the Global Industry of Vanity of which hair-dressing is a part (again, partially true)… but what it really, essentially comes down to is that I hate the process!
I hate the bright lights, the noise, the staring at yourself in a mirror for half an hour or more… I hate the enforced small-talk: the “What did you do at the weekend?”, the “Are you going out tonight?”, the “Are you going anywhere for your holidays?” and so on and so forth… Hair-dressers are always young bits of stuff who have much more exciting lives than me!
My latest expedition, just this morning, about six months after the last time (when, in truth, it had come to the point of spotting myself in a mirror in Dorothy Perkins, while waiting for my girlfriend to try on a pair of trousers or something, and occurring to me, as I stood there in my hoodie and my greasy mop, that I resembled nothing less than a sk8r boi ten years past his prime) was a particularly anxiety-inducing session… I was feeling a little under the weather anyway, as I sat there, trying in vain to look merely “relaxed and chilled,” but suspecting that I probably looked as I felt – my muscles tense, cracking the bones in my fingers under the anti-hair-cape (in a way that I hoped didn’t look like I was doing anything untoward), forcing myself to smile whenever the wielder of scissors glanced in the direction of my face and forcing myself to emit more than a caveman-like grunt whenever I was asked one of the aforementioned meaningless questions. And then there was the guilt at knowing that these people do essentially seem to be nice people, who are having to put up with a grumpy old fart who fiddles with himself under the anti-hair-cape and emits nothing more than a caveman-like grunt whenever they try to pass the time by making friendly conversation.
Ahh well, that’s it for another six months or so…