Haircut

I had a haircut today. My hair has been annoying me recently because it is too long. I always wear it up because I don't like it in my face, but I have it long(ish) because I don't have time to go to the hairdresser often enough to maintain any sort of style when it's short. Actually it's not so much a time problem as a laziness problem. If I have some free time I do not want to spend it at a hair salon.

But it had become long enough that it was taking too long to dry, and getting too heavy for one clip to keep up efficiently. It kept escaping. My hair styling method in the mornings is to brush it then twist it around and clip it up, telling myself I'll fix it in a minute after applying sunscreen to my face. I then apply sunscreen to my face and forget to fix my hair. Before leaving I suddenly remember and ask The Man if it looks all right and he says yes. (Unless he tells me I look like Elvis, in which case I do it again.)

This has worked until recently.

I did not want to spend time at the hair salon (it takes me half an hour just to get there), so I asked The Man if he would trim my hair for me as a temporary measure. He agreed. He has offered to do this in the past and I have always refused. I know he knows how to cut Japanese hair, but he has not done gaijin hair before, and I was worried that the results would be awful. But for a trim I didn't really care, especially since it is wavy in funny places and I wear it up anyway, so nobody is likely to notice if it goes horribly wrong.

I think that was the most interesting haircut I have ever had. I have never had a haircut naked before. We used the bathroom, as that seemed like the easiest way to avoid getting hair on my clothes. But also, I have never before had a haircut that involved blood. In fact my previous haircuts have been notable for a lack of injury, and certainly have not involved the hairdresser having to quit before finishing. It was all very exciting.

I remained calm while he bled all over the bathroom, and was philosophical when he disappeared, dripping blood, cursing, and apologizing for leaving me with a few longer bits in the front. I grabbed the little mirror, the comb and the scissors, and cut those myself. They were still a bit uneven but when I let them go they sprung up in all directions, forgivingly wavy, and I decided not to continue. You know what happens when you continue. You get one side evened up and discover that the other side is now a little longer, so you trim that, and the first side is now too long, so you trim that, and then the back is too long, and before you know it you're bald. That has happened to me before. Admittedly the hairdresser in that case was five years old and I was three, but still I remember it vividly. I especially remember my mother's reaction when she found out why we'd been so quiet for so long. I had to wear a hat for almost a year. My hair grew very slowly in those days.

My hair is dry now, and I have it up. It is staying in place and there is no way of telling that there are some uneven bits. I think it looks fine. On top of that my hairdresser's finger has stopped bleeding and I think he'll survive after all, although it was touch and go for a while there, or at least sounded like it was.

I'd call the operation a success.