hair
I'm too scared to have a haircut. There, I've said it. Let the mockery commence.
No, seriously, I find going to a hairdresser's on an equal scariness-par with going to the dentist. This is why I normally cut my hair myself. Well, I did, when it was short enough to reach. I have problems with reaching it now, so in June 05, just before I started my new job, I went for a haircut.
I haven't been for one since. It was horrible. There was such an air of faux-friendliness (yes, I *can* tell the difference, you patronising little man) from the hairdresser, and I couldn't escape the feeling that I could have done a better job myself, if only I could reach. And I'm not good at small talk. At all. I hate being in a situation where you have to mutter inanities to someone brandishing sharp pointy objects. No, I don't go on holiday, no I have no interesting hobbies; well not any that *you* would understand. I spend my days beating computers into submission, can you make small talk about that? No? Well STFU then. Grr.
Maybe it's just me; maybe I'm just a curmudgeonly nerd with no social skills. But I dread the hairdresser, and though my hair is now split, tangled and unhappy, I have still not made an appointment to have it rectified. I can barely get a brush through the ends at times. I cycle in the cold and the wet, and don't look after my hair (which is another reason why I fear the hairdresser - I cannot bear the look of horror when they see my poor hair), so it need some attention and probably a wig.
I have the feeling that I will end up just tipping my head upside down and hacking the ends off, just to be able to brush my hair.
I think they should train dentists to do hairdressing, and then I could get the whole horrible business over and done with in one place.
No, seriously, I find going to a hairdresser's on an equal scariness-par with going to the dentist. This is why I normally cut my hair myself. Well, I did, when it was short enough to reach. I have problems with reaching it now, so in June 05, just before I started my new job, I went for a haircut.
I haven't been for one since. It was horrible. There was such an air of faux-friendliness (yes, I *can* tell the difference, you patronising little man) from the hairdresser, and I couldn't escape the feeling that I could have done a better job myself, if only I could reach. And I'm not good at small talk. At all. I hate being in a situation where you have to mutter inanities to someone brandishing sharp pointy objects. No, I don't go on holiday, no I have no interesting hobbies; well not any that *you* would understand. I spend my days beating computers into submission, can you make small talk about that? No? Well STFU then. Grr.
Maybe it's just me; maybe I'm just a curmudgeonly nerd with no social skills. But I dread the hairdresser, and though my hair is now split, tangled and unhappy, I have still not made an appointment to have it rectified. I can barely get a brush through the ends at times. I cycle in the cold and the wet, and don't look after my hair (which is another reason why I fear the hairdresser - I cannot bear the look of horror when they see my poor hair), so it need some attention and probably a wig.
I have the feeling that I will end up just tipping my head upside down and hacking the ends off, just to be able to brush my hair.
I think they should train dentists to do hairdressing, and then I could get the whole horrible business over and done with in one place.