The First Cut is the Deepest

I haven't been to a hair salon in over a year. It's sort of nice given how expensive my haircuts are and how long I inevitably wait for my stylist (which if you know what my hair looked like pre-cancer is weird given that my idea of a good haircut is that I don't know its happened). My hair couldn't look worse the day of my first haircut post-cancer. I went to bed the night before with wet hair sans product. I have crazy bed head and it's kindof an afro. Even though I'm scared to cut one hair on my head, I decide that perhaps a cut will make the grow out a little more attractive. I sit in the waiting area across from a woman with shoulder length luxurious hair. I'm so jealous. I wait. A second woman sits down across from me who looks incredibly familiar. She has a buzz cut that's bleached white. She looks up at me and smiles. I assume that everyone with short hair has had cancer and I almost ask her if she's fresh out of chemo. But thankfully my internal sensor reminds me that some women buzz their hair off on purpose and I just smile back. I wait some more. And some more. After almost an hour of waiting I'm over getting a haircut and remember why I hated having to do it in the first place (at least at my salon). I walk past my stylist who clearly has no idea who I am at first and ask his assistant (yes, he has an assistant) how much longer I have to wait.

I'm ushered to the back where I get my hair washed and my head massaged. Heaven! Finally I sit down at the sylist's station. I wait. And I wait some more. And then I get up and ask another stylist how much fucking longer I'm going to be sitting here. "I've been waiting for an hour," I tell him. My stylist doesn't hurry over but smiles as he approaches. "You're hair is cute," he says. "Have fun with it. Put some bows in it. And headbands." I don't even know how to respond. Me with a bow? I picture a bald baby with a bow taped on her head so people know she's a girl. He starts snipping. He knows I want my hair to get long as soon as humanly possible so the trim takes about 2 minutes. He does thin it out quite a bit since it's so thick. He blows it straight and styles it so that I have tiny bangs.

When I get home I'm greeted by Baron and pick him up. He stares at my forehead and smiles. He smiles at my bangs all afternoon. I'm a little less afro-ish, so that's good. The stylist tells me to stay away until I hate my hair and can't take it anymore. Sometimes I think I feel like that every day, but I know what he means. In the meantime, I try to find products that work for my new do. My old products...not so much. I've found that Boris' hair wax on a stick works best. A little scary that my husband and I now use the same deodorant and hair products, but whatever.

It's certainly better than the alternative.