Impulsive Chopping

About every three months, it dawns on me that my hair has gotten much too long, that I actually am not enamored of long hair, and man, I need to visit the haircut lady pronto. In a fit of haircutting madness, I call up the local beauty shop and get the first appointment with Emily.

Emily and I go way back. She’s been accommodating my urgent need to change my hair for years now. A lot of women drastically alter their hair after a break up or when they are depressed or for other lame reasons. Not me. No, I am just randomly driving around town when I am seized with the urge to cut and, if I’m feeling really feisty, maybe even color. Maybe it’s because the moon is in the seventh house, maybe it’s because it took 25 minutes to blow dry this morning, or maybe it’s because the weather has changed. Regardless, when I’m feeling the urge to chop, it has to happen within five hours or I go nutso. And Emily gets this. Plus, she has appointments available.

It is key to have a good relationship with a hair stylist, and I have one with Emily. She understands my parameters: I do lawyerly things and have to feel like I’m being cutting edge in my hair presentation, but really I am only comfortable looking like a hip mom; the ability to pull it back is nice; low maintenance is key at 6:30 in the morning; I loathe and detest “product” and if I have to put anything on my head besides shampoo and conditioner, I will be very unhappy; and it has to be able to grow out without me coming back until the next Hair Chop Mood strikes me. Simple principles really, but essential to my continued well-being when I look into a mirror.

Once, pre-Emily, I went to get my haircut during a frenzy and I came out looking like Mrs. Brady. Not cute-haircut-from-the-early-shows Mrs. Brady, but the ucky-business-in-the-front-and-a-party-in-the-back-mullet Mrs. Brady. I knew it was bad when I came home and my roommate said “oh.” Usually, a roommate will say, “it’s cute” and that’s code for “you look socially acceptable.” Or the roomie says “I like it,” then it means “maybe your sex life will improve with this one.” But “oh” translates to “would it be more kind to let you live in hiding til it grows out or just shoot you?” Never wanting to repeat that experience, I found Emily and have faithfully been going to see her for years now.

So, at 4:18 p.m. today, when the overwhelming urge to cut my hair struck, I called, confident that I would shortly have a new hairdo. But, Emily had no appointments. Until next month. Late, late next month. WHEN DID SHE GET FREAKING POPULAR?????????? Seriously, Emily is no celebrity stylist. Granted, she knows her way around the scissors, but no appointments for a month? I could not, under any circumstances, wait a month. Not an option. And with a waiting list 38 people long, I did not think I could track them all down and shave them bald before the end of the month, either. Sensing the hysteria edging my voice, the appointment lady told me who had cancellations today. I went with Annie. After all, her name ended in an “ie” sound and so did Emily’s. And both names started with vowels. I took that as a sign. Looking back I know that Annie also has “an” in it, and that’s also found in the words “anti-Christ of hair.” This would also be a sign. A bigger one. Flashing neon.

What I don’t understand is what part of “still able to pull up” and “no product” are hard to remember? Because clearly, Annie brain drained those key points right after I told her. I had no idea what was going on until the clippers came out. Without my glasses or contacts, I can’t see my hand unless it is poking my eye. So, generally during a haircut, I sit in trusting ignorance until it is time to put my glasses back on. Not a problem with Emily. But when the evil Annie turned on the clippers and I could hear their awful “whirl whirl” sound coming towards my head, I knew in my gut that I was going to be a very unhappy once I could see again…

I guess the only real way to sum up my hair cut is: Mom, I am not a lesbian. My haircut is not indicative of my sexuality. It will grow back, but maybe not before Thanksgiving. So please also tell Grandma that I’m not a lesbian.

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One Response to “Impulsive Chopping”

  1. Laina Says:

    Oh, shit. I have to see this haircut. I too get the urge for random hair excitment, but I learned my lesson and now wait for my “Emily” (who’s name is Kelly, actually) and bide my time.

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