I really just wanted a trim…

Sunday afternoon Boo and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and took a walk along the river. After roasting ourselves for about an hour, we decided the walk back should be done in the shade, so we headed toward 2nd ave for the trip.

I’d been feeling a little hair cranky lately, like I needed to dye it or cut it or something it. Since there is no point in dying my locks pre-summer, I settled on a trim. Unfortunately, I live in New York City and it’s hard to find a salon where you can still get a double digit hair cut. I mean, if all you have to do is cut 1/4″ inch from the bottom of my hair, why should I give you $150 for that?

So as we strolled down 2nd, we passed a fairly reasonably priced establishment and thought we’d give it a shot. I walked through the front door and one of the stylists lumbered over and glared at me. Assuming this was my cue to speak, I stammered out that I was hoping for a hair cut. She just pointed to the bench and Boo and I took our seats. We joined a woman who was putting her slightly damp hair in a banana clip, which seemed a bit odd, but we didn’t think much of it at the time.

The stylist barked “You ready?” to the guy on our other side and he jumped up and got in the chair. The 2nd stylist had finished her customer by this point and addressed the banana clip woman.

Stylist: Do you know what you want yet?

Banana: I always knew what I wanted but I guess I wasn’t explaining it well. That woman didn’t seem to know what I wanted and she got very pissy with me about it. I didn’t want to make anyone pissy. She just didn’t get it.

*Note: awkward to hear old women say “pissy.” Also awkward to mention “that woman” when she is standing 3 feet away from you. Just saying.*

Stylist: Well what makes you think I will.

Banana: *awkward pause….*

Sylist: Well, I guess I can try and understand you.

At this point, Boo looked over and asked me if I wanted to leave. For as much as I hate my hair some days, he knows that I really do love it and don’t want to put it in the hands of someone who can’t understand what the client is asking for. I decided to watch Banana Clip and see what she’d been asking for.

Turns out it was layers. If you can’t handle layers for a person with stick-straight hair, you can’t handle the curly mess on my head.

We stood up and walked toward the front door but were stopped by Stylist #2.

“Are you coming back?”

We wanted to answer something along the lines of “Hellllll no! I don’t want angry/confused people near my head with scissors.”

Instead I mumbled something about not wanting to be late to the thing at the place with the people.

In case you were wondering, we walked up and over a few blocks (after stopping for pizza to settle our nerves) and I found a pretty spectacular salon where I got an adorable little cut for $2 more than I would have at Edward Scissorhands’ place.


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