A typical day at the hairdresser.
The hair is getting a bit unmanageable, a few split ends here and there, so it's off to Avi for a trim. Maybe a few layers here and there, I tell him. A tad shorter would be good. Nothing drastic, you know.
"Smoch alai" (trust me) say's he. How long have we been together? 10 years? Right. Go for it.
Now you need to know, that I have serious self esteem issues concerning my ears (hate them). Seriously, with a passion. When I was 5, my mom decided it would be a good idea for me to have a cute little bob for my first day of primary school. Blissfully unaware, I dressed in my little school uniform and started big school. It was a nightmare. Who knew? I had monstrosities instead of ears. I never forgave my mom for that haircut. She swears it was the fashion at the time, and I looked beautiful- tell that to those evil, cruel, horribly noxious brats on the playground.
Back to Avi.
Heart sinks at the first cut. Oh crap. I know that this is a serious mistake. A breach of trust. The hair is now just above my shoulders, but mostly on the floor, for Godsake. Let me out of here, I'm gonna sue.
This past week has been traumatic but I am getting used to it. Apparently, I look 10 years younger. And except for Asaf, the gardener/fighter pilot, most people seem to like it. I can still sort of hide my ears, and I have to admit that its much easier to deal with. The big question is what's next? A Buzzcut is NOT a good look for me. A woman's relationship with her hairdresser is a very special one. Jeez Avi, I feel cheated and let down. We are going to have to do a lot of work to heal these wounds. How about some therapy?
