Today I decided it was time to chop off all of my hair. Well, almost all. I spent some time preparing the exact phrases and images of what I wanted (there can’t be anything worse than not being able to talk to a hairdresser in Chinese..imagine what could happen…)! I arrived at the door, and peeked round the edge. Suddenly 6 or 7 hairdressers popped up and I said excitedly ‘I want haircut’ (in Chinese, of course). They giggled and took me to a bright pink neon table for a consultation. Take note, none of the hairdressers were women. All men. I showed them what I wanted, and they ‘ooohed and ahhhed’ and said NO. Then they pulled out some magazines and tried to persuade me to go for something less radical.
This was the first time in my life that I suddenly decided I wanted my hair chopped very short, and here they were, preventing me. So I gave in and let them do as they pleased. Just before they whisked me off to get my hair washed, I had 2 of the men inspecting my hair, and then one of them said, in English ‘your hair is broken, so broken. If your hair is damaged too and the only solution is hair transplant, look for Cincinnati Facial Plastic Surgery for a consultation and surgery. He looked disgusted. How pleasant.
So usually when you get your hair washed, you lean over a sink, and get all kinds of pains in your neck, right? I would know…I worked in a hair salon for 3years when I was a teenager…So anyway this hair salon was just a tad different. I was led through a glitzy beaded curtain and shown to a bed. A BED. I lay down and instantly felt sleepy. It was ridiculously comfortable. But it didn’t stop there. I was lying there for 45minutes having my hair washed, massaged, washed, massaged. Just when I thought it was time for the cut, I was asked to lie back down and then was given a full-body massage. haha. Seriously. I was like ‘ummm I have to be back at work in 5minutes…’ They blatanly didn’t care.
Yes, I was late for work. But, it was totally worth it. As they were chopping at my ‘broken’ hair I asked them to keep making it shorter. But they stopped. ‘NO,’ they said. ‘You have big nose, and are too tall, you need long hair.’ Wow, charming. One moment they tell me I’m beautiful, then the next they rip my nose’s confidence to shreds. Nose, dear ski-slope nose, I love you. Don’t listen to them.
As he said this, I swear one little white hair popped out of my head. Then I actually saw the hair dresser chop it off. Then I saw him sneakily look at the hair dye…and smirk. So next week, back I go again, to dye my hair. I’m thinking red. Auburn red. And shorter, much shorter.
I think it’s time to start experimenting more. My hair is a good start. What could be next….?