Today, I got my hair cut. I went to the same place I've been going for the past year, but to a different stylist. My old one moved to another salon, and although he called and left a message on my answering machine leaving me his phone number so I could get in touch with him, I wrote it down on a Post-It note that I must have thrown out. And he wasn't really that great anyway. Plus, this place is really close to my house.
Like many women of a certain age, one of my greatest fears is having "mom hair." Towards this end, I always try to dress "hip" ("try" being the operative word, here) when I go to get my hair cut, and I will admit, I shamelessly drop the fact that my boyfriend is a tattoo artist. This, I figure, carries some cred with these people, since everyone who works at this salon is heavily tattooed (unlike me). This time I got to feel particularly cool, because when I complimented the stylist on her half-sleeve and asked her who had done it, he happened to be a very famous tattooer and painter, and I was able to speak with her about him somewhat knowledgeably. See? See? I told you I was cool!
Anyway, she really did have some nice tattoos, and I liked my haircut, too. The only problem was the scalp massage. After she washed my hair, she massaged my scalp, as is typical at many salons. What was not typical, however, was the way she dug her thumbs into my temples repeatedly during the course of said massage. And, well, I was embarrassed to say anything, because how much of a wuss do you have to be to not be able to withstand a 60-second scalp massage? But my god, it was excruciating!
All the same, I will probably go back to her. Maybe I'll say something about the thumbs in the temples next time. My hair actually looks significantly different than it did before. I would post a picture, except I don't really post pictures here anymore. If you are a longtime reader, maybe you will remember that I used to post a lot of photos of myself here. I stopped for a few reasons. One is the rise in the number of narcissistic female bloggers who feel compelled to post flattering photos of themselves to accompany every entry. Hey, I'm a unique kind of narcissistic female blogger!
But really, the big reason is because I can't take a decent picture of myself now that I don't have a webcam anymore, and my old webcam was the only camera I ever had that took pictures that actually looked like me. As a general rule, I don't look good in pictures. Apparently, this is a family trait. A big part of the problem, I think, is that I (and my sisters) have big pupils. So big that when I was at parties in college, people would regularly come up to me and ask me if I was tripping on acid (at least I think that's what made them suspicious rather than anything in my behavior). So big that when I go to the eye doctor and they put those drops in my eyes to dilate my pupils I have to wear two pairs of sunglasses one on top of the other to go outside, and even then I can barely keep my eyes open enough to stumble home. Wanna see a really bad picture of me and my big pupils? Here you go. Please note that that is not actually what I look like in real life, but it should give you some idea of the problem.
Unfortunately, I don't have a scanned copy of it handy, but even worse than that picture is the picture on my student I.D. I showed it to Iggy right after I got it, and his response was "what did they do to you?" It was so bad that I wasn't even embarrassed by it, I showed it to everyone. "You look like that creepy little girl in The Ring!" gasped my friend Bobbi Jean. My running partner was more complimentary and likened it to Gwyneth Paltrow in The Royal Tenenbaums. At any rate, it's a bad picture. One in a series of many.