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- Jan 2, 2007
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I just got back from getting a haircut and there’s something I have to share. Ok, I’ve got a little something to say about when I get a haircut that I have never liked. Don’t get me wrong, I adore getting my haircut, there is nothing that makes me feel cleaner. I love having my head touched and letting someone else spend their time on me. Though, there’s really something that makes me uncomfortable during the whole process and that is the cape that they put over you.
There’s just something about it that doesn’t feel right. I feel strange under it, not like myself. Maybe its because I am forced to look like a goof for an hour right in the publics eye. People that pass by the window of the salon, look in and see just my head, looking it’s worst. Maybe I don’t like them, because the way they feel, just not normal.
Just to get it out of my system, this is how I felt today, when I got my haircut:
You’re sitting in the comfy chair, feet rested on the metal bar, hands on the arm rests, relaxed and smiling, looking really cute, until the stylist pulls out a large sheet of slick nylon and drapes it over you. Like a shimmering snake it craws over my clothes, before it wraps its death grip around my neck and it is sealed with the clasp of buttons. It gets tight around my neck, even though I’ve had hundreds of haircuts, each time the cape goes around my neck, it still has an alien feeling to it. There’s no escape from it as everywhere I move, it moves. Now, I just feel like a balloon that is half inflated, real attractive. I look to the woman to the right of me and I think how odd she looks with nothing, but her feet and head sticking out from this black mass of material and I realize that I look the same way. I stand straight ahead in the mirror and look at the disembodied head that is my own as it floats above what I know realize is nothing more than a advertisement for the salon. I have become a billboard while I get my haircut; my body covered in hard black, and in white bold words, ‘SUPERCUTS’ runs across the chest of it. I want this thing off of me right now, the words rush through my head, but logic comes into play as I grasp that my hair is now soaking wet and the clippings of my hair are already falling to the cape. I surrender and give in. I close my eyes trying to forget what I look like right now. I can’t stand looking at myself when I know I look strange. Several snips of hair hit the cape; I can feel their weight under the drape, drawing my attention back to it. I open my eyes and look to the left, noticing the growing crowd of people in the waiting area, some of them watching me, making me feel even sillier. I go back to shutting my eyes. The sound of closing scissors stop and the stylist gets out the blow dry, almost done. Several minutes later, everything stops, silence, until I feel her hands under my hair, grabbing at the neck of the cape as she breaks the seal and swings it off of me hurriedly, almost knowing the torture I went through. There’s an empty feeling around me now, like I am bare now. I get up from the chair and leave. Feeling like I was just let out of prison. I shake the uncomfortable feeling from me and relish in my newly trimmed hair that I just got for only 18 bucks. Though, I start to think that there has to be alterative than to smother a piece of nylon over you just to get a haircut.
I was wondering if anyone else had this problem or felt the same way and if so, please share how you feel at the salon.
Also, is there anyone that likes them?
There’s just something about it that doesn’t feel right. I feel strange under it, not like myself. Maybe its because I am forced to look like a goof for an hour right in the publics eye. People that pass by the window of the salon, look in and see just my head, looking it’s worst. Maybe I don’t like them, because the way they feel, just not normal.
Just to get it out of my system, this is how I felt today, when I got my haircut:
You’re sitting in the comfy chair, feet rested on the metal bar, hands on the arm rests, relaxed and smiling, looking really cute, until the stylist pulls out a large sheet of slick nylon and drapes it over you. Like a shimmering snake it craws over my clothes, before it wraps its death grip around my neck and it is sealed with the clasp of buttons. It gets tight around my neck, even though I’ve had hundreds of haircuts, each time the cape goes around my neck, it still has an alien feeling to it. There’s no escape from it as everywhere I move, it moves. Now, I just feel like a balloon that is half inflated, real attractive. I look to the woman to the right of me and I think how odd she looks with nothing, but her feet and head sticking out from this black mass of material and I realize that I look the same way. I stand straight ahead in the mirror and look at the disembodied head that is my own as it floats above what I know realize is nothing more than a advertisement for the salon. I have become a billboard while I get my haircut; my body covered in hard black, and in white bold words, ‘SUPERCUTS’ runs across the chest of it. I want this thing off of me right now, the words rush through my head, but logic comes into play as I grasp that my hair is now soaking wet and the clippings of my hair are already falling to the cape. I surrender and give in. I close my eyes trying to forget what I look like right now. I can’t stand looking at myself when I know I look strange. Several snips of hair hit the cape; I can feel their weight under the drape, drawing my attention back to it. I open my eyes and look to the left, noticing the growing crowd of people in the waiting area, some of them watching me, making me feel even sillier. I go back to shutting my eyes. The sound of closing scissors stop and the stylist gets out the blow dry, almost done. Several minutes later, everything stops, silence, until I feel her hands under my hair, grabbing at the neck of the cape as she breaks the seal and swings it off of me hurriedly, almost knowing the torture I went through. There’s an empty feeling around me now, like I am bare now. I get up from the chair and leave. Feeling like I was just let out of prison. I shake the uncomfortable feeling from me and relish in my newly trimmed hair that I just got for only 18 bucks. Though, I start to think that there has to be alterative than to smother a piece of nylon over you just to get a haircut.
I was wondering if anyone else had this problem or felt the same way and if so, please share how you feel at the salon.
Also, is there anyone that likes them?
/emoticons/
