I get an alarm to cut off my dreadful hair when my hair just gets too bushy and unmanageable. They stay like straw even after stroking them 100 times every night (that’s what End Blyton told me to do in the Caravan Family novel). I can hardly seem to get those flyaway hair into place. Tackling those little vagabonds with hairpins and bobby pins is of no use. Even the strict hairband doesn’t get the discipline into my unruly hair. So what option do I have? Let’s go to Jawed Habib, and chop off those locks. Get those errant mischief makers into place.
|Need I say anything more? Pic source: quotesgram.com|
As I step into the salon, the stylist becomes my saviour. Decked up in that black apron, I get ready to bid farewell to my dark brown tresses. I love my chin-length hair too much. Shoulder-length hair is too annoying.
The one problem that all hair stylists have with me, is that I can never seem to control the jerking of my head. The stylist tugs my hair a little, and whoom. My head goes running off in that direction. Try as I might to keep my head stiff, it’s completely impossible for me to do so. A few stylists have even figured out a way to chop off my hair and prevent me from doing the salsa with my head. The others, well, they just keep muttering about my unstable neck and make a total mess of the haircut (the ones I used to go to before being introduced to the amazing Jawed Habib)
Within ten minutes, I’ve got a new hairdo. And then the highlight of the whole episode- the hair dryer. I don’t use a hair dryer at home, because using it frequently can make your hair turn into steel wool. But when they do it at the salon: *faints because of the heady rush*.
People of my star sign love air and wind, and will do anything to get a whiff of cool breeze at least once a day. This jet of steam from the hair dryer is not a good substitute, but it kinda makes me go all crazy. You know, the hair flying around, looking all crazy, feeling like a diva. And the coolest thing that those people do with the hair dryers: they blow off all the recently disowned hair from the apron onto the floor. How cool is that? (“So now you know that she’s lame,” says Fab)
Hair dried up, the next step is combing it into a decent fashion. There are only two main ones: A side-parting or the middle-parting. I look pretty decent in a side-parting, though it depends on the hair style. If they give me bangs, the hair in front looks too heavy. Then, a side parting makes me look bald on the one side, and like a puffed-up chicken on the other. In these cases I prefer a middle parting. However, the haircut I got on Wednesday is pretty okay, so I’m settling for the side parting now.
After all this is done, and the stylist gives me the thumbs up, my first reaction when I look at the mirror is, “Wait, I need to wear my specs.” And when I can finally see clearly, only one word escapes from my lips- Beautiful. I just can’t stop staring at my reflection in the mirror once I’ve got a new haircut. I mean, I look so damn pretty every time I change my look. *runs away blushing*
|Pic source: stylecaster.com|
The next big thing is unveiling your new look to your family and friends. When you step into your home, the first reaction is “Ohmigosh my shonuli looks so different!!!!” And then it becomes quite normal at home. No much tamasha anymore.
You go to sleep that night. And it’s a different feeling, because your head feels a little lighter, and you don’t get too much hair in your eyes when you sleep. The real terror arrives when you wake up in the morning. You may have forgotten about the wonderful thing you did the previous evening. So you get all worked up and scared when you shampoo your hair. You know it’s cool till you’re massaging your head, but when you reach the tips of your hair, you lose all control. “Where did my hair go?” and then you recall everything, and you chill out.
You’re a liar if you tell me you haven’t felt this way at least once after a new haircut.
Then when you go to college. You get all sorts of mixed reactions.
“You look horrible. Go bring back that hair and stick it up again.”
“You look effing gorgeous. I want this new haircut.”
“What happened? Why did you cut your hair? Something wrong?”
“Selfie, please! And upload it on Instagram so that the ones who didn’t see you yet, recognize you the next time they see you!”
And yeah, I take all those criticism and shame and accolades and happiness without batting an eyelid. To end this post at a high note, let’s hear what Em has to say.
|“Hear, hear” I shriek :p|
P.S. Just because I haven’t posted the customary after haircut selfie, doesn’t mean I didn’t do the deed. It could also indicate that the camera of my phone ain’t helping me take a decent selfie.