Haircut

IMG_2914.JPG


haircuts have never been one of my favorite things. I suppose there are people in the world who really enjoy them. I'd like to meet one of these people. In person, because I suppose if you want to throw it open to the whole wide internet you're going to find a few odd people who really get off on getting their haircut. Normal people, the sort that I see socially or in the line at Safeway, probably agree with me that getting hair cut is a chore. Oh it's not the world's worst chore by any means, it's better than having even the most minor of surgery, or needing to go door to door trying to convert people to your new cult on a Friday evening, but it's still annoying.


Before I moved to Vancouver I had it as good as I probably ever will haircut wise. One of my former co-workers at the Paramount Theatre had finished hairdressing school and was working at a salon on my way up to university so stopping in either before or after school was never a problem. Melanie had been hired at the theatre at the same time as I had, and had gone to our graduation prom as Ryan's date so we were social work friends. That bit helped deal with the first problem of getting your haircut, which is the need to make small talk.


With Melanie we knew the same people, I had met her long-term boyfriend Jay enough times to almost care what he was doing and we had enough common friends through Ryan or the theatre that we could pass an hour every month or so talking about what everyone was up to. When I didn't feel like talking we could also go about our business of cutting hair and having hair cut, without the need for awkward forced conversation since after having worked with me for nearly five years she knew that I really was not a particularly talkative person and if I was quiet it was not because I hated her. At least I hope she knew that, I guess I never really checked to make sure that was the case.


In Vancouver I've never really found a place that I've liked. I've tried the expensive salons, tried my friend Vanessa when she was cutting hair, tried not one but two places in Metrotown and tried a variety of cheap hole in the wall places around the Denman Street / West End area. I haven't enjoyed or liked any of them. So each time I would go longer and longer between haircuts until this last time I think it was four months. My hair went from really short to growing long enough so that I could stretch it down past my nose.


Lydia wanted me to go to her friend's roommate, which sounded awful since it's all the social awkwardness of a regular haircut with the added pressure that I might actually see this person socially at some point. I don't want to chitter chat when getting my haircut. If it was socially acceptable, and if I didn't need to listen to directions from the hairdresser during the process, I'd simply listen to my iPod through the whole thing. Sadly it isn't, so I don't.


I'm debating just shaving my head. I would have it not to hide a bald spot Mark Messier style, but rather just to eliminate the need for having to be a hairdresser's patient. The only thing holding me back is that my special doctor says that the only reason nobody knows what a deviant I am is because my hair hides my skull's true shape [wp].