Thursday, February 12, 2009

Once every three years, whether I need it or not

I hate people touching my head. It's the main reason why I have long hair--it usually takes me about three years from the last time I get my hair cut to talk myself into going back and getting another one. If someone could figure out a way to wave the comb and scissors around over my head and magically make my hair shorter, I'd be so very happy.

I particularly hate the pre-cut shampooing session. Friends have told me that's their favorite part of the experience, that it's like getting a scalp massage--soooo relaxing. Not with me. I lie back with my head in someone's sink, trying to make small-talk and all the time thinking stoptouchingmestoptouchingmestoptouchingme. When I get up from the sink and follow the stylist to her station I have little half-moon fingernail marks in my palms.

Part of this may come from the time I got head lice, right before my eighteenth birthday. Mom spent an evening going all over my head with a bottle of Rid and a fine-toothed comb (I'm starting to itch just thinking about it). But I think that just reinforced an attitude about something I never liked anyway. Maybe I was scalped in a past life.

Anyway, I think it's time to let someone have a go at my hair. I've been resisting the idea for a while. When you get to the point, though, that your hair's too heavy to stay in a chignon, and it tickles your elbows when it's down (making you think there's someone behind you. Fun for someone living alone), it might be time to take action. And then there's what happens when I try to comb it. All my hair does is sit on my head all day, and yet when I try to comb it, I find that it's turned into one massive tangle towards the bottom. Is there some sort of party going on just past the nape of my neck? I sit here at night (or in the morning), combing and howling. The cat sits next to me while I do this, and I'll bet she's thinking, "Stop doing that if it hurts. Stupid."

Think of me Saturday. I'm going into Holiday Hair and asking someone to transform this:


into this:



Wish the poor unfortunate scissors-jockey some luck.

5 comments:

Hotch Potchery said...

I HATE getting my hair cut...I don't mind people touching my hair, I hate STRANGERS touching my hair.

I hate the shampoo because I don't like really hot water.

If you are brave, maybe I can be brave too.

Just Me said...

I like the hair washing when someone gentle does it. The Sweet Asian Lady (Whose Name I Shamefully Forget) scrubs so hard I swear my scalp is bleeding. It feels so raw that the hot-water rinse is almost unbearable.

You'll be fine. The cut you're seeking is really cute, too.

Good luck!

G said...

You people - give thanks, you have hair!

Actually, there are few benefits to ageing as a man, but one of them is definitely MPB - male pattern baldness. I just have to say "Number 3 all over, please," about every 6 weeks, and that's it.

Washing is more of a polish, really.

Just Me said...

G:

I'm giggling my hiney off over here. My husband's hair is the same way, only he goes every four or five weeks. My son wants to look like Daddy, so he gets the same clip.

In the summer they'll shorten it to a #2.

Anonymous said...

Stacy says:
Sorry, I love having my hair washed and brushed by anyone. I also love playing with other peoples hair. It can be relaxing, or it can be very sezzy.

I now have very very fine thin hair, the hairdresser only has to spray it to make it all wet, so I don't get the wash like I used too. It costs extra, so forget that.