Spiffy

This morning was set aside for grooming!  After nearly 7 weeks here, I was in desperate need of a haircut.  Nabil has been going to a local salon and suggested I go along, first to observe and then to decide if I wanted to get my own hair cut.  

We were greeted by the owner and whisked  to a private room, where they served us coffee and evaluated the work ahead.  Nabil was there for routine maintenance, and they jumped right to it.  The master cutter labored over a perfect buzz cut for nearly 20 minutes, while every wild hair was tamed and clipped. A plastic visor was taped to his forehead to shield his face from stray clippings.  He was brushed and dusted, and the back of his neck buzzed to a clean finish. When he was properly trimmed, they cleaned his ears (no kidding) and then waxed the ears to remove any hair that might be sprouting there.  This was followed by a a waxing of his cheeks, an eyebrow trim, a mini-facial,a head massage, wash and blow-dry.  All this, for $20 US.  

Of course, I was all in after witnessing this ritual cleanse, and decided to indulge in a manicure, pedicure and new haircut.  However, the challenge of communicating with a hairdresser who doesn't speak your language raises serious issues, especially when you are considering a radical change in hair style.  I had been contemplating a shorter, funkier style.  I was looking for easier maintenance and something younger and edgier.  After searching the style magazine and coming up with a hybrid solution, I tried my best to convey my preferences, and then put my trust in the guy with the scissors and closed my eyes. As I sat watching clumps of my already short hair fall into my lap I worried that my cosmetic risk-taking might put me over the edge this time. While I obsessed, Nabil sat across from me making me even more uneasy with his wide-eyed expression and "my god, you look different" comments.  Not better, but different. The anxiety was mounting.  After all, at my age, the thought of growing out a bad haircut is tempered with the realization that you may never have enought time to grow it out!  Worse yet,  it may fall out, before it grows out. But I was too far in to back out, so I sat there breathing deeply and hoping that Nabil's ever-widening stare was not a harbinger of bad things to come.

 When the scissors were finally set aside and I was spun around to face the mirror, I was amazed...somehow, despite the language barrier, this guy had captured most of my thoughts and translated them into my new "grandmother as punk rocker" style.  It is really short, but fun and young and a perfect counterpoint to my crow's feet.  I didn't get the ear wax, but did get an eyebrow wax, and the mani-pedi with my wash, cut and blow dry and a hair threading facial..this $100US.  And I feel like a million.

Now, if I could just lose another 15 pounds.....