The Hairdresser

I hate going to the hairdresser. I always did and probably always will. I hate the feeling of a stranger ravaging on my head and torture my ears with conversations I could not care less. The same way like I hate how they usually blow and dry the hair making you leave the salon wearing a humongous mushroom on your head.
Only recently, I found a place that makes my hairdresser ‘s visits more pleasant. I always ask for Miss M. She knows my hair by now, she is not that chatty and most of all if I say “no mushroom” she won’t blow and dries my head like there is no tomorrow.
The salon is around the corner from the girls’ primary school, that is perfect because I can go and they can join me after school and have their hair trimmed too.
Daughter number two is fine with it. To her, the hairdresser is a form of pampering.
Daughter number one, instead, inherited my hate for it.
Up to some years ago, I used to cut their hair myself, but since they started school, I felt they needed a professional doing it.
Exception made for those emergency situations when some slime got glued on their hair, or the knots were so hard to brush that chopping the entire tuft of hair was much easier.
Thankfully this is all in the past. The girls are now old enough to know how to avoid to go tangle extreme and stay away from chew gums or slime.

Back to daughter number one, as I was saying she is still reluctant to step into a hair salon unless it is my aunt’s one.
Unfortunately, Aunt Paola’s shop is in Italy, thing that made not so easy to regularly go. We try to do our best to get her hair done while visiting but not always is possible, like last summer. Since it was February, the previous time daughter number one had a hair, after I tricked her into coming to the salon with me, now she is really in need of a good trim.
As after the hols I needed a restyle too, I thought to get three pigeons with one stone, and I booked for the all three of us. It didnt work, and one pigeon managed to miss the stone!
“Please, mom, can you cut my hair yourself at home?”
The fact that my aunt and cousins are hairdressers make my daughters think that I can do it also. I tried to explain that you do not learn how to cut hair by osmosis, and neither it is a skill that you inherit, but they still believe I am good at it.
“You always cut our hair when we were little!”
“Yes darling but that it was when I could get away with anything because you were still a toddler and nobody noticed if your hair had different lengths and your fringe resembled Saint Frances’ one.”
Still, daughter number one faith in my coiffeur ability is strong, or it is her hate for the stranger touching her head? It doesn’t matter, and it does not change the fact that last Sunday, after rotating around myself, I transformed into the Wonder Hairdresser of the house.
“We aim for a shoulder-length ok?”, she says
“I am on it”, I say
And so it was. After the first cut was completed, daughter number one had a lovely shoulder-length bob that she proudly wore for a day.
Then every time I looked at her, I saw a tuft of hair of different length here and there, and for the following week every day I had my scissors in hand.
Chop chop chop, trim trim trim…..Daughter number one she is now “proudly” wearing a neck-length bob but so precise that it could go on a geometry book.

I wonder if next time she will rather prefer to suffer half an hour at the hairdresser than a week at home.


40 thoughts on “The Hairdresser

  1. Hair is a personal thing. That’s why the good ones charge $200 a head minimum. My mother and step father both cut and styled hair. So I became extra sensitive to the head touch.

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  2. You did a great job! I always cut the kids’ hair at home, too and did a pretty good job. When they got older, we called upon professionals. I always cut my own hair, too, up until the last 8 years or so. It became increasingly hard for me to stand in front of the mirror and cut it. So now I go to the salon. I HATE it so much! My hairdresser is so chatty and she is from Georgia (USA) so her accent has a twang very hard to understand at times. I always leave there ready for quiet time. Lol.

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    1. Your relationship with hairdressers is like mine.I feel you! But I love the Georgian accent .First American friend I had was from there so to me itโ€™s the easiest accent to catch since then๐Ÿค“have a great day๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’—

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      1. Thatโ€™s why fir years I kept changing because even if you keep to yourself the buzzing is lethal and then they take liberties to drag you in gossips after a while.But now, I got this girl , she is quiet she knows what I want and she books me in usually in Thursdayโ€™s around two or three…very peaceful slot๐Ÿ˜€

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  3. Hilarious as always!
    I don’t mind getting my hair cut (it is a 15 minute job at most) but my social anxiety means it needs military planning so that I don’t have to wait in a crowded area. Also my work hours mean I have to take time off – no way would I go in at a weekend when there are kids in there!
    I also insist that it is cut by a woman. Men with scissors scare me. Women are also terrifying but in a nicer way of course.
    As a result of all these conditions I was somewhat hirsute by the time I got my hair in desperation cut two weeks ago – and by a MAN.

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    1. Oh no that must have been an atrocious experience ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜‚but as a woman I still think we with scissors in hands are scarier than men๐Ÿ˜‰
      I always take my appointment around 3 and itโ€™s quiet because those who go during lunch break are fine already and the afternoon appointments start coming in around 330/4 ,also Thursday is a good day.Years if research paid off๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜‰

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  4. Haha! If you want her to go to the hairdresser instead of doing it at home. the solution is easy. Give her a horrendous haircut and she will be begging to see the hairdresser to fix what horror you have bestowed upon her. She’ll be a salon gal for life! โค๏ธ

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  5. I had a similar fear when I was a young teenage boy…not so much from the actual hair cutting but being a tongue tied young teenager with a twenty something young woman firing questions at me ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜ …but time moves on, anyone reading my blog will know that my challenge now is to stop talking!

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