With A Bang Pt.2
After the months of whining, tantrum throwing and general 'woe is me' approach to the hair, I went for the cut. Opting for cost over quality, I went to the same place as last time. My initial fears following that particular excursion were forgotten once I realised that curls hide everything, and the cut was really quite ok.
Expecting Carmel to be back with her fine tooth comb and gruff persona, I was greeted instead with an older gentleman brandishing a shaving brush. I enquired into the appointment schedule for that morning, told to 'sit down and wait'. He finished up with the freshly clean shaven man and went out the back - I assumed to find Carmel. He returned with a brush, a pair of scissors and a 'what can we do here today?'
I was terrified. Every occasion when I've let a man cut my hair has ended rather terribly. There was Pat in the tenth grade, the older brother of a friend who was an aspiring model/actor/hairdresser and was certain he knew exactly what I needed. Losing half of my hair in a household bathroom wasn't really what I'd had in mind. Then Aaron, the trendy 20 something with the bleached blonde hair and the guyliner, who would talk explicitly about his 'partner' while shampooing, and cut my fringe based on his own. Needless to say, I had my reservations about the male hairdresser. I was expecting a fringe similar to this:
Just 11 minutes later, he was finished. No talking, minimal brushing, and a new full fringe. I was actually fairly impressed.