I am awful at getting haircuts. In other parts of my life, I am confident if not outspoken, but getting a haircut immediately makes me revert to a 7-year-old with a wet head. I become painfully self-conscious and shy — totally unable to carry on a conversation besides the ones going on in my head (which are mostly along the lines of “You said you wanted bangs?!? BIG MISTAKE.” “I don’t know, I didn’t know what else I could say besides bangs and layers — those are the only haircutting terms I know!” “Everyone in here probably knows that you’ll look horrible with bangs, but they are just trying to be nice so you don’t feel stupid, even though you are, Stupid.” “Shit! Should I take it back?” “No, you can’t take it back! Then they will think you’re crazy. Plus, what will you say you want instead?” “Fuck! I don’t know!” “Well what other hair words do you know?” “Umm…perm?” “Jesus Christ.” “Oh fuck…I’m fucked right?” “Pretty much. Why aren’t you talking to her? People talk to their hairdressers, you weirdo!” “She seems busy.…” “Busy thinking you are a fucking freak. Are you sure you don’t smell? Keep your mouth closed.”)
Since I am so bad at communicating with hairstyling professionals, I consider the image I present to them to be VERY IMPORTANT. I always ALWAYS wear make-up to a salon. I worry that if I don’t they’ll see me coming and say “Oh, ok, I get it… Rafe! Get the lesbian shears!” and I’ll walk out with a mullet and a new cat. Plus once they wet me down and stick me in front of that mirror, make-up is the only thing standing between me and 30 minutes of staring at a fat-faced grim reaper version of myself. See, in front of my mirror at home, I don’t have to just stare at my flaws — I can mug, get in some kicky “who me?” looks or “I’m so fun!” magazine poses. If I tried doing that in a salon they’d stick a washcloth in my mouth and call the paramedics.
Besides the make-up, I also try to dress as cool and young as possible. I drag out the Hot Topic t-shirts and over-accessorize so that the stylist can see I’m no fuddy duddy — I want an exciting haircut! You know, the type of haircut that they might give to someone way too old to be wearing a goth Tinkerbell t-shirt and platform sneakers.
So they cut my hair, and occasionally try to speak to me (which I react to like a refugee — panicked, stammering “Yes, yes it is very nice out side.…yes, I have job.…no thank you, no coffee, I’m fine.”) Then they show it to me and I smile and say, “Oh, nice…so you decided not to give me those layers we talked about? Oh, ok. No, it’s great! I love it!” And then I leave and cry.
That is why I fork over way too much cash to the ONLY person I trust with my hair!! I went through a nightmarish period when I had short hair and she rescued it, after many cheaper places who all made me freakish and asymmetrical. Boy do I relate on this one — I feel like the vainest person alive when dealing with hair!
You took the hair right out of my mouth. Pthhhwwwttt!
You are hilarious– and it’s because you’re a genius! Why do we care more about impressing our hairstylist (beauty school dropout, go back to high school) than getting the haircut we want!!
And bangs are so easy to say, so fickle to wear, so painful to outgrow.
The worst is that even if I hate the cut, I lie And say I love it and I hand over a big tip. It’s masochistic really. Like I’m punishing myself for letting her cut my hair. And in 6 weeks, I’ll be back to do it again! Ugh.
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THIS. IS. SO. TRUE.
Yep, you’ve pretty accurately summarised pretty much every haircut experience I’ve had in my life. Does the fact that I’m a dude make that better or worse?
I pay crazy outrageous salon prices because I like getting my hair washed and brushed. I hate brushing my hair.
I haven’t been in a long time though because I’m terrified if I get a trim I’m going to walk out with a bowl cut just above my ears after they take off all the split ends.
I usually don’t talk during the process either, but it helps that I only take appointments with the same hairdresser, so she’s had time to get used to it. She talks, constant chatter. I try to resist the urge to nod my head
She may think I’m weird, but she always takes my tips, which is close enough to social validation for me.
So what if this was posted six months ago…
I have the exact same problem, and I’m a boy.
What generally winds up happening is that I get get ‘Generic Boy haircut No. 5′, which makes me look exactly like my father.
To the point where people tell me, ‘Put a hat on or something, you’re freakin’ me out.’