The Haircut

Hair on a woman is a sign of beauty. Crowns of shining glory or long beautiful hair, however one describes it, it never fails to amaze me how much I actually care about dead keratin. It is my vanity, my weakness and my pride. I've had long hair for a very long time. Before we imigrated to Canada I actually cut it. It was symbolic, a physical manifestation of what imigration would mean to me. It was cut short, like a boys, and after the deed was done, I cried. My father said I looked like a devil, my sister tried to cajole me into thinking it wasn't so bad. It grew again and I vowed to keep it long for as long as I could. Remember, it is my vanity, and I've always felt that older women with long hair only aged with it. It is never good to have the long frame of your face be so grey.

I keep my hair long. Troy, my husband says that it would not matter to him if I cut it. I know differently. I know he loves it. Its like some whitey male fantasy to have an asian woman with long, beautiful hair. Cascading, heavenly, a silly prepubescent desire. I know this, and so I keep my hair long. For a very long time I would only get the ends trimmed, even the most ammatuer of hair dressers could handle a simple trim. The process of even a trim was arduous. The usual routine was getting me to stand up and having the hairdresser hover around me with scissors in hand.

In my third year of residency I felt a sense of entitlement. At least, with the little money I make from all my hard work, at the very least, I would spend $60 on a haircut. So I got it done, first at Angles and to my dismay, because I was so rigid with my precise specifications, my $60 haircut turned into a dramatically expensive trim. Not really different than the $30 trim at any other salon. So I concentrated on finding the correct hairdresser. Someone asian, who understood asian hair. I looked into it as though I was attempting to search for a personal mystic. At long last I found her. She called herself Julie and owned a salon in an old house that was converted into her place of business. Dressed entirely in black, she wore her hair short and spiked with red tips or most recently in swarths of pink. Around her slim hips she had on a leather toolbelt. It sweeps down her right leg and held numerous scissors and razors. She pulled tools out of ther with a flurish and would firmly tell me what I needed to do with my hair. Awed and hypnotized by her ability to lead me astray from my plan, I let her highlight my hair and with a straight razor, cut it into long layers. For her mastery, she charged me $200. I have gone to Julie several times, and each time I am pleased.

One morning, in my weak state of post call oblivion, I came across a coupon from Great Clips. It advertised a haircut at their salon for $6.99. I thought deeply about it, and in my sleepy recklessness decided to try it out. I rationalized that I had done the high end of the spectrum, why not try the low end? A completely different experience. Service was slow, the atmosphere lacking and the hairdresser, though asian, had long hair dyed a maroon brown with bangs that curled forward in acknowledgement of the early 80's. A little sceptical now, I had become afraid. But too proud to back away, I proceeded.

She washed my hair, not with the fevour of the $200 salon but a lacklustre scrub of the scalp. She sat me down and with dogged concentration began. It took her a half hour, she talked about being a refugee from Vietnam in Malaysia. At the end, she informed me that a blow dry would cost an additional $11. Taken a back, I decided against a blow dry, she dried most of it anyways. At the end of my haircut, I peered at myself in the mirror and scrutinized her efforts. It was good, really very good. Her name too was Julie. In the end, with my coupon and tip minus the blowdry, the haircut cost $14.99. The kicker?, she stamped a frequent haircut card, after the seventh haircut, I get one free!