If there is one thing I hate in this world. I mean truely utterly loathe. Its haircuts.
Ive always disliked people touching my hair unless I give them approval. Its a personal spot and something I will actually get angry over, it could be considered an intamate touch for myself. So naturally I have to trust the hairdresser to allow them even to put sissors to my head. I honestly think that part of it came from the fact I spent several of my younger years practically bald with a number two instead off a moptop due to curly blonde locks of frizz. Once free of my parents controlling vices i went completely the opposite way and had a ponytail that could reach the small of my back, it was a unkept wild birds nest of curly long frizz. Not very attractive I can assure you.
Once in college I put a Ki-bosh to the ponytail and opted for midlength to shortish hair that looked far nicer and modern yet took me far longer to prepare. Wash - Lotion - Brush - Dry - Brush - Straighten - Hair wax. I had offically joined the 21st century in a possibly metro-sexual way. Since those days I have found several ways of cheating this long list as not to need to be awake at god knows what time in the morning to prepare for the day ahead. God bless laziness.
Fashion wise I have been described as an alternative. I practically live in my jeans which are only left unripped on my grandmothers orders, several percings and a heavily tattooed upper arm with the possiblity of a second on my left side ribs, Skater shoes are the goods of the day and hoodies or leather add to warmth. Generally I look rather scruffy and or an "artist" if you can generialise in such a way, though I am often told I look like I should be doing music. ( Does that sentence constitute bad grammar? ) Naturally it entails I have a hair style to fit in with this mild image aka fringes, spikey choppy hair and generally a fair amount of products. For this reason I am doubly insecue about hair dressers as unless you pay top cash they generally dont have a clue what you are on about.
Such as was the case today. I noticed that my length was far beyond what it should be, My parting was slowly becoming a center instead of a side, it was put to me that I resembled a cave man. Not quite what was needed. My Nan, God bless her soul demanded I visit her local hair dresser and get a hair cut, I happened to concur not wishing to upset my nearest and dearest. Rather large mistake on my part there.
So instead of paying £30 Quid to my usual gentleman who knows exactly what I want I find myself driven into the village to a small shop to a rather plump woman with blonde streaks in her hair.
Oh dear.
Im polite as its always better to have people on your side than to come over as a little so and so. Having now had a fair amount of experience with changing hair dressers ( sadly ) I tried my best to describe exactly what I wanted in a simple manner as possible.
"I would like a short back, cut it right off, Then I would like between short and mid length 'Choppy' hair that doesnt cover my ears for the sides and a sweep fringe; sweeping to the right"
I would say thats fairly specific, apparently not. I should have known something wasnt quite the ticket when she was aboslutely stunned at the amount of hair I had and at its length. I must stress the point I had been referred and agreed ont he fact that "She has sons who have hair like you, all trendy Brad, she'll do it so you look 'nice'" Nice is not a word I want to hear nor is the words "A trained barber" I still stand by my remark that all a barber can do is short back and sides. What I infact needed was a stylist. Regardless she carrys on, Telling me she would trim the back but not take the clippers to it, I keep my mouth shut, she then asks me "what way did you want the fringe again love?" I tell her strickly once again I would like a sweep fringe to the RIGHT. So she sets about spraying down my hair with water. Alarmed by this I tell her my hair is straightened and naturally frizzy, looking at me for a moment she continues on with her spraying. Bugger.
For the entire time I keep my mouth shut and only answer question that her chav like freind was asking me, without my glasses I was practically blind and unable to really see what she was doing. However I could tell, having cut my hair myself once, she wasnt making my hair choppy. To give her credit it isnt dead straight layers but its feathered. FEATHERED! which would be fine if I was going for a clean cut short trim with a little length to give it bounce. Not what I wanted.
Next came the fringe. Now I asked for a sweep fringe so why was she parting my hair? she asked what way I wanted it again so through gritted teeth I told her "right please" so she began to trim. This was okay as I had a pretty long fringe at least it was till she cut it far too short. Not much point complaining at this point, just grin and bare with it. Next she rubs some gell like substance into my hair and proceeds to blow dry. I have frizzy jew fro hair what is the possibly worse thing you can do? thats right. Blow dry. Once again to give her credit she did try her best to control the frizz but the result was something fluffy, I felt like a short sheep, and her freind wasnt helping much easier by complimenting on how much it changed my looks. I thanked her for her time, paid and tipped her as is my custom and left as fast as I damn well could raging at my father that I would never step through her door again. Petty I know but I get very uptight about very few things and my hair is one of them.
I showed my nan who was delighted at her nice looking clean cut baby boy ( I feel some foul play may have gone on here ) While both sets of parents, usually against my alternative expressions agreed it really wasnt something that suited me and tried to calm me down. Raging I went home and did alittle damage control. Its still too short and fluffy for my liking but a few days of my lifes style will sort that out hopefully.
I would rather pay money for a decent cut every 4 months than go to a barber and pay cheap.
Enjoy.
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