So I had a haircut.

It was long overdue. The hair was like the shaggy over run kind of undergrowth the lost urban kids hike through when they go for weekend getaways involving deserted cabins and demonic spirits. The spouse had kindly informed me that combed or uncombed, the hair looked unkempt in either state. For him to make such a comment, to risk life and limb and ear being reduced to gristly stump meant I sat up and took serious note. After of course, chewing off said ear.
After I looked at said hair in the mirror, I noted that he did have a point. Ergo, I booked an appointment at a newly opened salon in a newly opened mall just down the round. I presented myself at the salon at the appointed date and time, hair shampooed and conditioner to knock your eyes out gleamingness and perched myself in the chair they asked me to take. An earnest looking young man, with the tools of his trade around his waist, trotted up to me, introduced himself, made polite enquiries about what I wanted done with my hair, checked the ends, checked the scalp, checked the texture and made wise sounds while I shivered nervously about whether my hair met up to his exacting standards.
“What would you like me to do with it?” he asked.
The red horned one on one shoulder whispered in my ear, “Cut it all off, go short. Like a pixie cut.”
The winged and harped one on the other shoulder spoke sense by shaking me down and stating firmly. “The rest of you is not pixie. Be sensible. Ask for volume or you’re going to look like a bowling pin in denim.”
Ergo, I tremulously requested he chop it to the shoulders and give it some volume. I decree that any communication between stylist and customer should be bound by contractual requirements involving the use of tape measure to define specific length to be chopped off. I emerged from the hair cutting session feeling all light headed and fresh and with hair that was somewhere shoulderlength. And looking much the same as it did before it was cut. Gah. It’s this kind of hair, no matter where I go to get it chopped, it always ends up looking pretty much the same.
So I returned home, tresses all chopped, blowdried and prettified and twirled in front of the spouse. “Nice?” I asked. He cast a cursory look up from the laptop. “What?” he replied. God help me, I spared his other ear, because a man has to manage with some auditory function.

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About Kiran Manral

Author of The Face At The Window, ( 2016), Karmic Kids, All Aboard (2015) , Once Upon A Crush (2014) and The Reluctant Detective (2011).
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7 Responses to So I had a haircut.

  1. Photo? *looks hopeful*

    Like

  2. Aathira says:

    I am so due for a haircut myself. And, I do not want the spouse to inform me of the badly needed attention to remaining tresses!

    I think a photo update on the header is overdue 😉

    Like

  3. anonymous says:

    Lol, i remember clearly reading one of your earlier posts lamenting about salons…..yet you tried ur luck once again 🙂

    I think you shud have gone for highlights along with the haircut it would have surely given you a new look. Just a thought.

    Like

  4. When YOUNG, i defied ‘hair-cuts’, now as we grow OLD, We look-up at the
    Mirror each-day to decide, How early we visit “SALOONS” …!!!

    Like

  5. shilpadesh says:

    Photo? I NEED a haircut too! And I want to go super short and sleek, but like you said the rest of me is so NOT like that 😀

    Like

  6. Aathira says:

    I am checking back relentlessly in hope of getting to see a photo 😦
    (* sighs still hopeful on the next round*)

    Like

  7. bytchcraft says:

    Next time I am taking you with me to the magic maker in Bandra… I don’t know anyone who is so good with haircuts!

    Like

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