The misaventures of Edward Scissorhands’ victim.
As usual, it will require an intense psychological preparation and a deep, deep breath before to step in the hairdresser’s.
Hairdressers and I can not be friends.
First, I have, as they say, “a- so-so-so-beautiful-hair-omfg”. From the second they spot me, I can see their hands shaking and their eyes becoming bloodshoot. I know the prospect of playing with my hair and scissors makes their mouth water. Consequently, I will end up with everything but the haircut I asked.
Secondly, I have curly hair. Have you noticed how hard it is nowadays to find a hairdresser who understand that no, your hair is certainly not straight when you get up in the morning, neither it is in the afternoon ?
And finally, who would befriend someone whose answers range from “I’d rather not” to “no fucking way !” ? I don’t blame them.
