So I got another haircut today, and it was …not what I expected. I actually feel a bit violated.
Where to begin? Well, for starters, when I walked in the door post-haircut, Michelle started laughing. Then she didn’t stop laughing. Then she went for the camera while I went for the sink. (I won.) I haven’t seen her laugh like that in some time, actually. This was the result of the styling process which I didn’t ask for per se, but which I absolutely got. I looked like a low-rent Macklemore.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. My cut started like any other, with a bit of a wait and then some incomprehensible Turkish. So you know, just like your last haircut. In any case, after a quick game of charades, we got started with the back and the sides. Then the clay mask.
Wait, what? Yes, I got a clay mask. Don’t ask.
Then I got a bit of a fade on the sides, which I didn’t ask for. In case you’re considering traveling to Turkey, “yok unutulup gitmek, lütfen” means “no fade, please.” This may also mean “please do not disappear.” I’m not quite sure. You see my dilemma!
Eventually we got to the scissors, which was by far the least weird part of the haircut. This was followed by having my nose waxed. I don’t want to talk about it.
I got the hair burned out of my ears by a butane torch, which sort of paralyzed me with shock, meaning that I wasn’t prepared to stop him when he went for the eyebrows. So that happened. I’m not sure I want to talk about that either.
And the cologne! My God, the cologne! I got some “eau de cologne” kind of thing rubbed into my hair somewhere between the ear-hair singeing and the nose wax, so I was already quite pungent. It also got rubbed into my neck and, oddly, my shoulders. So if you were smelling someone with too much cologne on earlier today, that was probably me. From Turkey. But then I got sprayed with several, and then several more, sprays of regular cologne on my t-shirt, which has been ticketed for a trip to the cleaners.
Finally, I got a blow-dry and several go-rounds with a brush to really get it nice and feathered on top. This was bolstered by multiple scoops of some kind of hair cream.
After I paid for this privilege I walked home without meeting anyone’s eyes. Today I learned that I’m not cool enough to look this ridiculous. Which is a cold realization.
This is my life now. And you know what? I still kind of love it.
This is why I’m cutting my hair to a length I know can safely grow and not look ridiculous for a few months before going to Europe. This sounded like a wild ride.
I can’t stop laughing