It's official: I'm gay. Not that there was any doubt in my mind before (or anyone else's, for that matter), but when you do what I did yesterday, there's no denying it.
Spring is in the air (at least as long as it's not snowing, like last week), and along with this delightful time of year, there's a nasty little thing in the air called "pollen." The way I handle pollen is to sneeze a lot in its presence. Two words: allergies suck.
Several years ago, it dawned on me that my hair is a magnet for pollen, hence why I was forever sneezing indoors, and could hardly sleep. But really, that's not what I'm getting at. It had come to my attention earlier this week that my hair was becoming quite poofy. As in, there was lots of it. So yesterday, on a whim, I decided I would go forth and get a haircut.
Here's where it gets interesting. I grew up going to a "classic" barber, if you will. As in, the man went to barber college and specialized in cutting hair. He's not a hair dresser or stylist. I've always been more than content with this, as it's all I've ever known.
Yesterday, however, that all changed drastically. Because I was running on a time crunch, I didn't have time to go all the way to my usual barber shop. So I head to one nearby (at the time), only to learn that they only accept cash, and they charge more money for a haircut than I had on me.
I exit the barber shop, thinking I'll head to the bank and then go right back. I then spy another barber shop that looks promising. Picturing in my head the previous place, I realize that I'd just as soon not have them cut my hair. Let's just say that it wasn't the cleanest-looking place around, and I'd just as soon not take a chance when it comes to personal hygiene.
Okay. So I spy the other place, and decide to give it a try. I walk in and say hi to the owner. I inquire about if they do regular haircuts (yes) and how much it costs ($18). Pretty steep, especially for me, but I need it cut badly and am short on time. The fee includes shampoo, conditioning, and actual haircut. So I figure what the heck, I've never done this before, I've had a really hectic week, so why not treat myself to something new?
Before I know it, am quickly ushered to a chair so that I can have my hair washed and conditioned before the man actually cut it. The sensation of sitting in the backward-tilted chair and having my hair washed for me was, to say the least, bizarre. But kinda nice at the same time.
While my hair is being doctored, the man comments on my appearance, making sure to point out that my goatee isn't perfectly symmetrical. "Oh my god! Did you trim your goatee? It looks lopsided!" Okay, point taken. "I mean, it looks all crooked!"
Next thing I know, I'm ordered to go sit in the chair across from the basin. I go and sit down, and then the clipping and trimming commences. While my hair gets trimmed and snipped, I make pleasant conversation with El Hair Stylist, who comments that since the weather is so nice, all the girls on campus must be in skimpy shorts, how awesome. Flamboyance is not always as it seems, and apparently vice versa.
After all is said and done, and I look positively smashing according to the guy who cut my hair ("how is it I can be this good?!!"), I pay up and go on my merry way. And for the rest of the day, I get more comments than ever before on my new haircut. So there you have it. The expensive haircut ended up being a good experience (yes, I enjoyed myself), and it turned out good. In the immortal words of Margaret Cho, I say unto myself: "You are so gay!"