The Result

Well, I survived my first real haircut. And I'm even pleased with the outcome. I wanted to get some length cut off for the summer, so the stylist, David, probably took off as much as 5 or more inches. And I even consented to layers. I was originally opposed to layers because they generally mean added maintenance. But David said "the layers I will give you will not make you work harder to keep it up, I promise."

I was really impressed with David and how quickly he figured out what to do. I told him what I wanted - "shorter, but longer than my shoulders, incredibly easy and fast to do" and off he went. He clearly has been doing this for a while because he literally spent less than 10 minutes cutting my hair, probably closer to 7 minutes. He cut the length and then went crazy doing the layers. For someone who is afraid of layers and crazy hairstyles, it was a little unsettling to see him cutting my layers. He just pulled out a section of hair and clipped it haphazardly and then grabbed another section did the same thing again. There didn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to it. Sort of a flashback to Edward Scissorhands. But the outcome was great - so clearly he knows what he is doing.

I also learned something about myself while I was at the salon. Turns out, and I've suspected this before, but I know it's true now, I am uncomfortable with being pampered. Part of the haircut includes a lengthy hair wash complete with scalp massage. It's very thorough in fact, you're kind of expected to tip the hair washer (who is different from the stylist) for the hair wash. And while I thought the girl who washed my hair did a good job, I just felt uncomfortable. I mean, really, spending all this time on my hair - it's just my hair. I felt silly just sitting there. I've noticed I'm like that with other things too, I felt the same way when I went with my friend, Melissa, to get my first pedicure. I just feel bad paying someone to spend so much time rubbing my feet or scalp. Actually it's not the fact that I am paying them, it's that I am asking them to do it at all. As if I am insulting them - "here you pamper me, and could you press a little harder over here?" I don't know, I'm just uncomfortable with it. Another reason why I don't really get excited about professional massages. I'm just not comfortable with making someone work so hard to give me a break, even if I pay them. I know, I'm weird.*

Anyway, I'm really glad I went and I'm very happy with my new haircut (David called my layers "conservative," how did he know that was the right adjective to use?) Maybe I'll even be tempted to go again. Who knows?

*This quirky part of my nature doesn't just exhibit itself in pampering situations. I had the same problem when we moved to DC. Matt's firm paid for professional movers who not only moved our stuff but actually packed it too. I felt really stupid sitting on the couch watching them work so hard. I kept getting up and asking them if I could help. Mind you, I was five months pregnant. They looked at me like I was crazy. I probably am.