Simple like to share one of my experiences with you all

Wow..that is very deep, very deep indeed...bravo bravo..

It`s like I`ve just stepped out of a salon


"Oh! It`s so long!"


Were the words from the girl addressing me...Yes sir, loyal reader, exclamation mark and all...Unfortunately, I was not standing with my pants around my ankles, though had I been, I`m sure the words would be the same...


*pause*


Why do I sense an undercurrent of derision here? Have I not proven, time and again, to be honest and forthright when it comes to the written word? Have I not earned your unreasoning faith in the truthfulness of my hyperbole? Anyway...


It had been three long years since the last time, and truth be told, I have hardly missed it...I`m fairly sure you can underdstand why...


A stranger leaning in against you...

Your eyes closed...

Another`s hands upon your head...

Guiding it knowingly...

The element of danger...

The exotic lotions...

The twenty or so dollars it costs...

The vague sense of dissatisfaction you almost always leave with...


Yes, some people enjoy it, but for me a haircut has always been somewhat of a chore...That is largely the reason I sported a shorn head for most of my life...Also a factor in the decision to grow my hair long...After all, there`s nothing so simple as shaving your hair, except maybe not cutting it at all, yes? I don`t believe I shall go into my tragic "Conan the Barbarian" fixation just now, or my need for an individualistic gimmick, or even my ode to heavy metal music...I`m sure you don`t wish to hear it and I`m almost as sure I do not wish to embarrass myself futher than is absolutely necessary for comedic value...Let`s just keep my reasons for growing my hair simple, shall we?


But, god-like though I may be, I have indeed aquired a few split ends amongst the flowing waves of my princely locks...And, from the precious little hair lore that I either know or have imagined, it occured to me that hair does not grow well once it has become split at the ends...So with great reluctance, I decided to have my hair cut...This is really the place where I should add something like:


"Tune in next month for the gripping conclusion to our hero`s tale! Will Zoran overcome his infantile paranoia and allow his hair the cutting it needs? Or will he fall victim to his own distaste for fellow man? Especially fellow man bearing scissors?"


But, I am in a rare mood to write, and I fear that if I put it off any longer I`ll forget most of the salient points and be forced to invent them like in most of my other entries...*blink* No, wait...My other entries don`t have salient points...


Katherine it was who assured me that I most likely would not need an appointment if I were to visit one of the salons in a shopping centre...Katherine is a very intelligent 13 year-old (or there abouts) and I trust her advice unequivocally...Though she has an unfortunate congenital defect that causes the strands of her hair to grow at different rates we shall not hold that against her...The poor dear has somehow even managed to convince herself that it is a positive attribute, and I wouldn`t want to disabuse her...


When I think `Shopping Centre` I immediately think of my beloved `Altona Gate`...So that is where I went...Coming up the escalators to the ground floor I noticed a sign that read `Sechi Hair`...An omen, I thought to myself? But of course, what else could it be? For `Sechi` means `Cut` in slavic...And, lo! I am slavic...I also love portentous signs and omens...


Now, perhaps I was a trifle intimidated by the reclining women in chairs with curlers in their hair for a voice in my head chose that moment to speak, "You don`t belong here..."


"I don`t belong in many places..." I replied matter of factly...


The voice seemed to mull this over for a moment before conceding defeat, "Touche..."


I walked over to the counter and stood there, trying not to buckle under the combined weight of the multitudinous stares directed my way...It was quite obvious to me that they resented a male having hair that far exceeded their own in colour, shine, body and length...No, truly...


Eventually the youngest looking hair stylist made her way over to the counter and before giving me an uncertain look asked, "Yes? Can I help you?"


"Err...Could I get my hair trimmed today without an appointment?"


She frowned prettily over the computer and typed something in before biting her lip, "We can fit you in quarter to twelve?"


I nodded, "Cool...I`ll be back then..."


Perhaps I left the place rather hurriedly, but I had begun to feel uncomfortable...Why? Oh, I don`t know...Women in numbers tend to intimidate me...And that`s as far as my analysis of the issue will go...But, do feel free to speculate and draw your own conclusions, jackals...


I arrived punctually three hours later, as is my want, only to again have to wait at the counter for aknowledgement...One solitary customer was having her hair blow-dried while the remaining hairdressers scurried about packing away combs and assorted paraphernalia or sweeping up the accumulated hair into neat piles...


I was puzzled...The place had the air of a business gearing down for closure and yet here I stood with my hair uncut...She had said quarter to twelve, had she not? My memory tends to be surprisingly good in the short term and so I decided that I had not been mistaken...Yet why were they ignoring me? I began to have misgivings...Well, more misgivings than previously...


Suddenly, a rather corpulent blonde with flabby shoulders scraped back a chair and briskly motioned me forward, "Come on...What do you want exactly?" She waited impatiently for me to be seated before jamming the cloth around my neck...I sighed inwardly and wondered if she unduly resented me after having pulled the shortest straw...


"Just a trim...About five centimetres, just to get rid of the split ends..."


I instinctively added the diminishing qualifiers by way of appeasement...


"Truly, large lady, I wasn`t aware that they were going to squeeze me in just before closing...Had I known I would impinge upon your weekend, I would have come back another day...Surely you understand? Please, don`t hurt me...I beseech you, don`t take it out on my hair..."


All this emotion I tried to encapsulate and communicate to her with my, "Just a trim..." She seemed oblivious...


I removed the solitary band that kept my hair secured in a ponytail at the base of my neck, and shook it out...She ran her stuby fingers through it, arranging it about my shoulders, before exclaiming, "Oh! It`s so long!" Perhaps all was not lost...I stared at my reflection in the mirror, irrefutable proof of my handsomeness, and thought that surely this heifer would overlook the inconvenience of such a late appointment and give my hair the loving attention it so rightfully deserves...Nay, demands!


Ahh...But the world is a cruel place, children...Yes, indeed...She set to my hair with the same enthusiasm I would`ve evinced had she offered me her phone number...That is to say, little and none...I would have run screaming if not for fear that the amazon would overpower me and return me bodily to the chair...


"Oh! I forgot you weren`t a girl for a second! Do you want me to cut away your sideburns?"


"Yes, please..."


I closed my eyes, ostensibly to shield them from falling hair, but more truthfully to aid me in prayer...Would she ruin it? Would she force me to kill her? Would I wake in some back alley, blood-soaked scissors clenched in my shaking fist, slowly recalling how I had roared with incoherent fury after witnessing the Black Adder-esqe tragedy she had perpetrated upon me? I smiled to myself, amused by my train of thoughts...


"Do you want it layered?"


"No, thanks..."


There were no further words exchanged in the next few minutes, for she seemed absorded in twirling my hair into seperate braids before snipping away at the ends, and I had no intention of interrupting her...Another minute passed before she set aside the scissors and replaced them with a hair-dryer and brush...She painfully dragged the brush through my hair as she dried it, no doubt feeling it easier to pull it out by the roots than actually cut it with scissors...Sadistic *****...She then stepped away and wiped her hands on the front of her smock...I surreptitously glanced at the clock and noticed that no more than ten minutes had passed since I had seated myself...It took me a moment to realise that my haircut was actually complete...I gazed at my reflection doubtfully as I tried to ascertain whether she had actually done anything...


Despite this, I smiled and made the correct noises when she positioned the small hand mirror so that I could see the back of my head...


I have never complained once in my life for any haircut I have ever been given*...Perhaps that is a fault...Or perhaps just a measure of how good I look at any time...In any event, I didn`t break my rule despite the fact that I had to duck under the fast descending security shutters on my way out of the salon after paying twenty five dollars for ten minutes...


Perhaps now you will better understand my earlier analogy comparing haircuts to sex...


For I left Sechi Hair with the pleasant knowledge that I had been well and truly screwed...







* Except for that one unfortunate incident involving my brother and the shears...