Pseudo Snipping
So I was at the salon today, a new one, because the old one was a friend of The Boyfriend, and since The Boyfriend and I are that that place, it just feels weird going back to him. Anyway, after being told that I will actually be walking away with a net loss for 32 buckaroos (I was desperate), I took a seat on the nice leather chair, and narcissist that I am, started to check myself out in the soft glow of mirror lighting.
No, I’m kidding. What happened was, the stylist came over and said I looked like a celebrity. For real. I didn’t quite know if that was a compliment or an insult, the insult being if he made the connection between me and some hideous Singapore actor. I smiled sheepishly, and thanked him (yeah, whatever), and thought to myself, O… K…
Despite ass-kiss number 1 (read on), I was very apprehensive of this stylist. He looked really inexperienced, and we had that whole language barrier thing, cause my mandarin is something primary school kids laugh at. After realising that he had no idea what a fauxhawk* is, we discussed the style briefly, in mandarin nonetheless, and hence began the very arduous and slow process of pseudo snipping. I call it pseudo snipping because it almost seemed as if the pair of scissors wasn’t even touching my hair.
Several times during the cut, something he did gave me sharp pains at different points on my scalp, and while I attributed it to my really frictiony hair (all for the love of mint shampoo), and of course didn’t say anything because, you know, I’m a guy and I’m supposed to be macho and all that bullcrap, I’m sure he noticed I was uncomfortable.
Somewhere between the silence, he asked me if I was rushing for time, which, while I did think he was taking forever, I actually didn’t mind sitting there reading Nat Geo and totally stretching my $32 worth. So I told him it was fine, and then the pseudo snipping continued. Not long after, he apologized again for being so slow. Ass-kiss number 2.
After all was said and done, I was somewhat happy with the cut, except that the tip of my fauxhawk was too long for my taste, and I asked if he could shorten it. During the cut, I had already asked him twice if he could shorten it, and he was firm that it would make me look like an army recruit (bleah) if he had cut it, but clearly he didn’t see the same thing I was seeing. So I gave in to him, and asked if he could just snip the edge off a little. He caved, and actually told me that this would make it look cooler. I was like WHHHAATT? Ding! Strike 3. Fine, the customer is (not) always right, but you didn’t have to forgo your professional opinion just to kiss some ass, did you now?
Ya, I get that basically every guy in hairstyling (and fashion in general) is gay, but I don’t think I came off as very flaming (yes, I’m talking to you all your NUM-wearing, board-shorts putting, slipper donning queens), and he totally didn’t need to kiss my ass. Unless, of course he literally wanted to kiss my ass, which kinda freaks me out, even though it shouldn’t.
After all that, I still prefer my old stylist, and he could actually do it in half the time. You better be listening.
*now, if you’d click the link, you’d see that Jensen Ackles is the first on the list of famous fauxhawks. No, I don’t actually have a point. Jensen is just majorly cute.
