Paying a visit to a hair stylist and showing up at the dentist has a lot in common where to say the least, you will be at the mercy of the cutter or driller. To yield control of vanity and control required.
At the age of eleven, the dentist filled a small cavity on my left front tooth with a huge chunk of gold. What was he thinking? Left teeth chattering cold, with a self-esteem hitting rock bottom and only twenty years later replaced it with advanced technology called porcelain crowning. Today an implant can cost as much as a month’s hard-earned salary unless you want to live on smoothies and learn to pronounce words in a British fashion, keeping the lips hooped.
Recently while enjoying the subway stations and high-rise buildings of Toronto, I spot a “Walk-ins welcome” saloon and while this La Belle Femme Saloon is close to the Eaton Center I do not question their reputation.
“Please don’t take too much off,” I ask, “the tips need a little trimming.”
Am I allowed to ask “Before you take up that scissor are you sure you can deliver?” but being polite I do not.
Once again, I learn that nothing in life is for sure and halfway through the process I want to ask her to make sure the bullet hits my heart. This might seem to be dramatic and I will give you that together with a mirror. Honestly woman, the one side is shorter and now is the other until the uneven cut hair is under my ears.
“A blow-wave?” asks she as she finally realizes she is not getting anywhere.
“No thank you“ and add out of nowhere, ”I’m going for a swim.” In hindsight drowning myself was more on target.
At least this walk-in cut did not cost me an arm and a leg, after many months too short hair can grow back and rest assure I’m on my way to the mall to find some saloon that can share my setback, only this time I want to see the stylist’s certification before she picks up the scissor.
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