31 October 2013
My sister took one look at me last night and told me, “You’re going to get a haircut tomorrow.” And that’s how I found myself this morning, gripping the armrests, staring at myself in the mirror, as my sister’s stylist cut off a good chunk of my hair. I haven’t gone to a salon for more than a year now, and would continue on happily if not for this…intervention.
It’s not that I haven’t been taking care of myself–well, maybe, just a little–it’s got very little to do with that. Here is a secret: I’m very ticklish, especially when it comes to my hair. I can’t handle it when someone touches my hair, even just a wisp, even just the tips. I feel it, that touch, all the way to the roots, and my scalp tingles and gives me the shivers, and I’m just a live nerve when that happens.
So–a trip to the salon is pure torture for me. It felt like dying, when my hair was shampooed. I was shuddering all throughout. And then the blow-dry? Aaaagggghhhhhh.
But now I’m all proper-looking and very unlike myself. I thought, perhaps it was the way to end the month. Leaving a part of myself behind. Even if it’s just hair. And that’s a lot of hair.
Ah, goodbye, October.