To Tell You The Truth

I have a confession to make.

I'm not the best with small talk.

So when I went in to get my hair done last week, I was nervous about how I'd converse with the hairdresser.

The person who did my hair was a gay guy who had done my hair before. He just reminds me that I need a gay best friend, and stat. He's done my hair another time and remembered me because, well, I have a lot of hair. And it's ultra thick. I don't have the same hairdresser because I never know when I'll get to go in and get my hair done...so when I call and make an appointment, I ask for whomever is available.

It's pretty easy to talk to the guy in the beginning, but then silences fall and I'm always like, "Should I keep talking? Should I stay silent? WHAT? WHAT should I do?"

The people around me seem to know exactly what to do. They'll ramble on and on and, well, I'm not much of a rambler unless I'm drunk.

"So...um....have you ever been to London?" I finally spit out and then felt like an idiot. I mean, who asks that? I could have inquired about what he was doing for the holidays but no, I asked if he had ever been to London. And he hadn't, by the way.

Then another silence fell.

Crappity crap.

But then...

Then the hairdresser started telling me about a client who came in and said she wanted her hair cut short to her shoulders. So they cut her hair short and now she's complaining that it's TOO short and is expecting them to pay for extensions.

"Like Paris Hilton has?" I asked dumbly. Seriously, I am SUCH an idiot. It's like I don't get out enough. And okay, I really don't but still. I should know how to talk normally to people.

"Yeah, like her," the hairdresser laughed. "But that's like a $1500 job so of course we're refusing, and she's raising more of a stink and...it's probably going to come down that we'll have to have all our clients sign permission slips before we can do anything with their hair."

"That's a shame," I mused. It really is. What is WRONG with people these days? It seems everyone wants everything for free. They'll complain about everything to get the free stuff.

My hair, by the way, was getting much needed highlights. See, I have gray hair and no that's not a figure of speech. I literally have GRAY HAIR thanks to my Dad, who got gray hair when he was seventeen. Did I get his straight teeth? No. Did I inherit his awesome eyesight? No. But I DID get his gray hair. Thanks.

It had been...oh, six months since I had last had my hair done so it needed it.

Here is the outcome:



Much better, no gray.

And yes, still somewhat long, but only because I really don't have the face for short hair. It's like round and puffy. My face, not my hair.

Plus, I sort of like having long hair, since so many people have short hair. People usually remember me thanks to my hair.

It's probably because it's long and frizzy, but still. If I could afford to fork out the stuff they use in my hair at the salon, it would probably be tamer, but I refuse to fork over forty bucks for a bottle of shampoo.