Sometimes I wish I’d been born Catholic. This way, when the hairdresser at the salon around the corner asks how long it’s been, I would know to say, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been six months since my last haircut.”
But I’m not Catholic. So when I rent for my semi-annual trim on Wednesday, I just hung my head in shame and mumbled the same response I do every time: I don’t know… it’s been a while. Probably six months. Maybe more.
The thing is I know I’m supposed to get my hair cut every 6-8 weeks but I just can’t stomach the expense, or the time. Seriously, who can afford to go to the salon every 6 weeks? That’s 8 haircuts a year and even though I don’t generally spend all that much on my haircuts, I can think of plenty of better things to do than spend a perfectly good afternoon making forced small talk with a complete stranger.
I know the whole forced small talk thing would be easier if I went to the salon often enough to have a regular hairdresser—then we’d talk about our sex lives and she’d compliment my shoes—but I don’t go often enough to get to know any of the staff so, really, its vicious cycle.
What I don’t understand is why they feel compelled to lecture you about your beauty regime (or lack thereof) when you’ve already taken an important first step in addressing the situation. I mean you’re at the salon. You’ve admitted that you have a problem (split ends) and you’re doing something about it (getting a haircut). Why do they chose the moment you admit defeat and come begging for help to tell you that really, you should have asked for help months ago, and that you’d better schedule your next appointment now, while you’re at it?
It doesn’t make sense.
Unless we’re talking business sense, in which case it makes perfect sense (for them at least), but I still don’t understand how getting my haircut more often is going to help it grow out faster.
Am I supposed to believe that the split ends at the end of my follicles are capable of sending secret messages to my roots? (Don’t grow! Don’t grow! It’s a terrible world out here! Stay where you are and save yourselves!)
I don’t think so.
The Wedding Date, being a typical male in some ways, likes my hair long and doesn’t even believe in split ends.
“How can you tell your hair has split? Is that even physically possible?” he asked last week.
“Of course it’s possible! Haven’t you seen the commercials?”
“The hair commercials. For conditioners and stuff. They always show magnified hair follicles, and they are definitely split.”
“You know those ‘images’ are computer generated, right?”
I may not believe in bimonthly haircuts, but I do believe in split ends. Which is why I marched over to the salon for their Wednesday special ($20 for a wash-and-cut by one of the less competent folks), hung my head in shame and confessed that it had, indeed, been quite a while.
Half an hour later, my request for a “quick trim” had turned into six inches of my hair ON THE FLOOR.
And then they wonder why I don’t get my hair cut more often.
In fact, tt’s almost as bad as going to the dentist… which reminds me: I’m due for a lecture on fluoride use as well.
- Why Having Your Hair Cut is Hell for Anyone Who Hates People (theparablesofthesuburbs.wordpress.com)
- Adventures in Haircuts (mfinocchiaro.wordpress.com)