It is difficult for many people to realize that they have aged. There are constant reminders around us all that we are used to and no longer shock us. The unsettling experiences are the unexpected ones. Surprises can rattle you to the core of your being.
I was surprised like that just the other day. I made my way to the nearby Great Clips spot with my son to get our hair cut. Sharde, my normal hair stylist, had disappeared again. That is to be expected from a young person trying to find her way in the world. You have to make decisions about what is best for your needs. Calvin refused to have his hair cut because Sharde wasn't around. I think he has a crush on her. That is easy to understand, she is a cutie.
My hair couldn't wait. I jumped up in the chair determined to get my hair back under control.
This new lady was nice enough. I can't remember her name, but she got right down to business.
The stylist went about trimming my hair, and evened out my unruly mop. About mid-way through she stopped in front of me and said,"Would you like me to trim your eyebrows."
I was shocked and insulted that this woman who didn't even know me 5 minutes before is asking to trim my eyebrows, but I took a breath and said in my most calm voice, "Ok."
I know that my eyebrows were kind of hairy. I have given it some thought, but I didn't think it was something that other people notice. The biggest problem for me was figuring out what to do about them. So I thought that having a professional address the issue was probably a good idea.
She was obviously unaware of the internal trauma she had just caused me, because she followed up her intial question with this little zinger, "Now people will focus on what you are saying and not your eyebrows."
What? Is this why my kids don't listen to me? People are distracted by my eyebrows? What the ...
At this point I know I am turning red. I have no idea what to say, so I give one of those little confused smiles you use when someone says something to you that sounds like an exotic foriegn language that you don't understand.
Unbelievably, she is not finished!
"We can't have you walking around looking like Andy Rooney, now can we?" and then she laughs!
I was so upset I nearly leapt out of the chair and roundhouse kicked her right in the clippers! There was no way I could have prepared myself to suddenly be compared to a man who looks like he has ginormous, furry caterpillars dueling on his forehead.
My calming techniques have really come in handy lately. Deep, slow breathing while concentrating only on the air entering and then leaving your body is very centering. On this day, I think it kept me out of jail.
What other age indicators are there waiting for me to discover? Maybe I will find out that I am only 13 years away from being able to move to a senior village.
Showing posts with label haircut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label haircut. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Bean Head
Last week I got a bad haircut. It makes my head look like the shape of one of those chocolate covered goobers. I've come to realize that I'm not comfortable seeing parts of my own scalp.
Sharde', my former hairstylist, has apparently left town. The rumor is that she has run off to Georgia with her boyfriend. Or at least that's what they tell me at the Hair Cuttery up the street.
We had an odd business relationship. She was a student who used to attend the school that I still work at, and while she was an adult, I still saw her as a child.
We would talk about the people that she remembered from school and I would fill her in on the latest news. Sometimes she would tell me how things were going in her life I would have to resist the urge to give advice. Once, she told me about a new tattoo that she was getting to match her boyfriend's tattoo. I smiled and said something like, "That is nice," and hoped she wouldn't. Not that there is anything wrong with tattoos. Matching tattoos just seemed to be something that she might someday regret.
I would always wait for her to cut my hair. One time I waited for an hour. I never wait for anyone or anything, but for her I felt obligated to do that to support her independence. Somehow, seeing her do well made me feel better.
As loyal as I was to her, even lining up my family to get hair cuts just from her, she didn't give the greatest haircut ever. I didn't mind that my oldest son's hair line in the back was cut at a 10 degree angle. I didn't care that my hair was not always uniformly cut and had spots that were obviously longer than all of the neighboring hairs. I was happy just knowing that she was still doing ok.
Last week, I got a hair cut that I am just not happy with, I mean it is short and relatively uniform, but it is weird. I think that it is strange because someone new cut my hair and I am a tougher critic of her work.
The family was all out of the house and everyone was still under control, so I decided to go to a new place- still cheap, but I had never been there before. The girl seemed nice enough, but she used the number four clipper straight up the side of my head. It is like a long buzz cut or something. The bad thing about a haircut is that often by the time you know things are wrong; it is way too late to say anything. She left sideburns on me. Sure, I have always toyed with the idea of some Captain Kirk side burns that come to a point, and giggled about possibly growing some fat 70's Elvis styled side burns, but as a rule, I opt out of that kind of facial hair.

While this girl (and I really don't use that term in a negative way- she was young, but definitely an adult) was cutting my hair, my daughter was watching very closely, and standing 2 to 3 feet away. This really seemed to distract my new hairstylist. At the time she was working on the over the ears part and the back hairline. It seems that she looked away at some point while working on my left side because it is higher than the other side and has a little knick in it. So I can't really fix the sideburns without drawing attention the larger nicked up gap on the left side.
So now I am out there in the giant hair grooming world trying to find someone who understands what I want. I just want my hair shorter and I really don't want to talk about it. I know that I don't want it to look stupid but I also know that there are some things that other people need to help me with- that is why I am not trying to cut my own hair in front of a mirror. I know that normally Sharde' would use a number 4 clipper cover and kind of taper it up from the bottom. All the rest of the hair would get trimmed and she would never say something like, "Do you want me to trim your eyebrows?" - I was furious when I heard that! I also don't want anyone to bring attention the fact that my hair is pulling back from my face like the tide. If a bald spot is forming where I can't see it, my hair person should not ask me, "When did the aliens land?"
I think it is also important to talk to me, and to laugh at half of any jokes that I tell. When I say that my hair is turning blond again, just like when I was a child, my hair stylist should laugh like it is the funniest thing they have ever heard, and say, "Yes, it is getting more blond!" I feel better about tipping when my stupid jokes get laughs.
Until my next haircut, I am just going to keep a low profile. Really, how close do people get to you to see all of the little imperfections of your hair? If you stay far away, no one can even tell that your hair looks bad. I will just try to stay at least 20 yards from everyone for about 3 more weeks.
Sharde', my former hairstylist, has apparently left town. The rumor is that she has run off to Georgia with her boyfriend. Or at least that's what they tell me at the Hair Cuttery up the street.
We had an odd business relationship. She was a student who used to attend the school that I still work at, and while she was an adult, I still saw her as a child.
We would talk about the people that she remembered from school and I would fill her in on the latest news. Sometimes she would tell me how things were going in her life I would have to resist the urge to give advice. Once, she told me about a new tattoo that she was getting to match her boyfriend's tattoo. I smiled and said something like, "That is nice," and hoped she wouldn't. Not that there is anything wrong with tattoos. Matching tattoos just seemed to be something that she might someday regret.
I would always wait for her to cut my hair. One time I waited for an hour. I never wait for anyone or anything, but for her I felt obligated to do that to support her independence. Somehow, seeing her do well made me feel better.
As loyal as I was to her, even lining up my family to get hair cuts just from her, she didn't give the greatest haircut ever. I didn't mind that my oldest son's hair line in the back was cut at a 10 degree angle. I didn't care that my hair was not always uniformly cut and had spots that were obviously longer than all of the neighboring hairs. I was happy just knowing that she was still doing ok.
Last week, I got a hair cut that I am just not happy with, I mean it is short and relatively uniform, but it is weird. I think that it is strange because someone new cut my hair and I am a tougher critic of her work.
The family was all out of the house and everyone was still under control, so I decided to go to a new place- still cheap, but I had never been there before. The girl seemed nice enough, but she used the number four clipper straight up the side of my head. It is like a long buzz cut or something. The bad thing about a haircut is that often by the time you know things are wrong; it is way too late to say anything. She left sideburns on me. Sure, I have always toyed with the idea of some Captain Kirk side burns that come to a point, and giggled about possibly growing some fat 70's Elvis styled side burns, but as a rule, I opt out of that kind of facial hair.

While this girl (and I really don't use that term in a negative way- she was young, but definitely an adult) was cutting my hair, my daughter was watching very closely, and standing 2 to 3 feet away. This really seemed to distract my new hairstylist. At the time she was working on the over the ears part and the back hairline. It seems that she looked away at some point while working on my left side because it is higher than the other side and has a little knick in it. So I can't really fix the sideburns without drawing attention the larger nicked up gap on the left side.
So now I am out there in the giant hair grooming world trying to find someone who understands what I want. I just want my hair shorter and I really don't want to talk about it. I know that I don't want it to look stupid but I also know that there are some things that other people need to help me with- that is why I am not trying to cut my own hair in front of a mirror. I know that normally Sharde' would use a number 4 clipper cover and kind of taper it up from the bottom. All the rest of the hair would get trimmed and she would never say something like, "Do you want me to trim your eyebrows?" - I was furious when I heard that! I also don't want anyone to bring attention the fact that my hair is pulling back from my face like the tide. If a bald spot is forming where I can't see it, my hair person should not ask me, "When did the aliens land?"
I think it is also important to talk to me, and to laugh at half of any jokes that I tell. When I say that my hair is turning blond again, just like when I was a child, my hair stylist should laugh like it is the funniest thing they have ever heard, and say, "Yes, it is getting more blond!" I feel better about tipping when my stupid jokes get laughs.
Until my next haircut, I am just going to keep a low profile. Really, how close do people get to you to see all of the little imperfections of your hair? If you stay far away, no one can even tell that your hair looks bad. I will just try to stay at least 20 yards from everyone for about 3 more weeks.
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