So, it was hairdresser day again. Today. After like, what, months? I don't let people mess with my hair often... in fact, I never quite like it at all. I just go because.. I have to. YES. You gotta just squeeze through the pain sometimes if you wanna look fabulous.
Just kidding. I ain't fabulous. It was just the usual wash-and-trim so that I don't end up looking like a female wolverine with my hair all up in wild bundles. People barely notice it anyway. I thought that since it was the holidays, I might as well get it trimmed before I let it grow any longer and it gets a mind of its own and twists itself in all the wrong directions.
One does not simply... trust a smiling woman with hairdressing gadgets in her hands.
ANYWAYS. After I dragged my butt off to the mall and sat myself in the chair of the salon and watched as the lady brought me tea( I never drink it, I feel so bad being served like this), and had a word with my stylist and listened as she rattled off in Cantonese to the junior fellow under her wing and then eyed him awkwardly in the mirror as he cautiously assessed my hair and tied it up with a pin so that I found myself looking at some Japanese geisha in the mirror(For some reason I looked like one today. Or maybe I just look more Chinese. LOL) and goes off and comes back with a squirt bottle and a handful of shampoo and the same old routine begins.
1. The Scrub
The very beginning when you get to tell whether the junior washing your hair is a real noobie or is has been there a little while now. They always make the juniors wash hair. They're like, the bottom of the food chain or something. But anyways, I've had different experiences. Chatty juniors, awkward juniors(they are numerous), blur juniors, unsure juniors, stoic juniors... you name it. Once I had a guy with super long fingernails digging into my scalp(dude, massaging a client's scalp with your gorgeous nails is NOT professional), others were rough during the massage, most were...blur. Like today. XD But he was a sweet fellow. Polite, and at least could speak some basic English. At least he didn't need to go for a second round of shampoo. The last guy who did my hair had to do that. Hey, I didn't cut my hair for months, cut me some slack.
2. The Wash
The part where he beckons you to follow him into the washing room(?) where they wash off all the soapsuds on your hair, and condition it. Often you find yourself with a new unique sticky-up hairdo from when they squeeze off as much of the white suds. Other than that, its probably the most relaxing time of the routine. Unless of course they run the water too cold or too hot.. then you're in for it.
3. The Cut(or Trim)
The junior wraps your hair in a turban and takes it off when you're back at your chair. And his job is done..for now. He leaves you staring at yourself with slicked back hair in the mirror; sometimes your stylist comes along immediately, other times, you'd have to wait awhile. Sometimes, a lot longer than awhile.
Thankfully today I waited for just...some time. Didn't count, duh. Was busy occupying my head with daydreams, as usual, till I snap out of it when she comes along and I have another awkward session staring at myself in the mirror while she snips pieces of my keratin off the ends. The best I usually do is watch some tv commercials backwards(it was reflected in the mirror, ok?), stare at some adverts posted on the walls...or... blindly stare at the pieces of black hair falling on the tarpaulin-like wrap that engulfs me. Also, I blink. I blink a lot. Its fun. Really.
4. The Blow-Dry
Thank goodness I have long hair. Warning: If you have short hair, do not under any circumstances come to this salon. They wrap coils of your hair around the 360 degree hairbrush and use hot air to dry-straighten it, pulling the coils against the mouth of the hairdryer while slowly unfurling it so it comes out all shiny and flat and sort-of bouncy. When I had short hair, I turned out looking like a mushroom-head. It was the worst decision of my life to cut my hair short. NEVER AGAIN.
*cough* sorry. Got carried away while dreaming of my past mistakes. But anyways, the stylist leaves you and the junior takes over again, pulling at your hair in several layers starting from the inside layer. When I had thicker hair(loooooooooooong, waist-length locks which I refused to cut), they had to use so many pins to pin up the different layers into what looked like an explosion of curls on the top of my head. The poor fellow today had a rough time(inexperience, sigh), pinning and unpinning my layers, and taking forever to blow-dry them. Eventually my stylist came along and took over, half-lecturing him for not being done in a smattering of Bahasa and Cantonese. Geez. They talk like my dad and his relatives. Oh wait, right. He's Chinese after all...
5. The Touch-Up
When they're done doing their best to make you look like a mushroom-head, the stylist does a little snipping to get the job finalized. Then they grab this mirror and show you back to front(as all hairdressers do) and you nod and smile at them and say yes thanks this is just great and then you tell em thanks and get up from the chair and go off to the payment counter while trying to keep at bay all their extra offers of hair treatment and rebondings and products and...
6. The Finish
You pay. You're done. Get your money ready. Smile. Walk away. Congratulations. You survived another ordeal.
If you're like me, and just plain hate having to find yourself in the chair at the mercy of the hairdresser's scissors, then... good luck. Entertain yourself the best you can, try to get the cut you want in the form of words as clear as possible, and find the courage to stop your hairdresser if she snips it all off the wrong way. Unless, of course, you're caught off guard, but then by then..... too late. Hehehe.
BTW. I look no different. >.> It was only a trim.
Hair, Y U No Grow Faster?!
