It Was Worth Every Yuan....

I have not had my hair professionally cut since the summer of 1995. It took place in a little neighborhood shop in La Canada, California and Paco was my barber. It was right after graduating from college and it also was quite momentous b/c it marked the first time that I had my head shaved.

Up until then, I was in the "hair management plan": grow it where you can, then push it around for coverage. I wasn't quite to the "comb-over" stage but, in retrospect, I held on about a year too long. I do wonder now, though, where were my friends to tell me the truth? That less was more. That it's time to worry less about my hair and more about my (head) shape. You know, those would be true friends. But, no, they kept egging me on - saying things like, "Deebs, you kinda have that Bruce Willis (in the Moonlighting era) thing goin' on!" or "Deebs, you look like a surfer." And I'd say, "Really?!" Thinking that I was cool and that they thought I was cool.

Someday, I will write a memoir about my hair. I will call it The Hair Chronicles and it will be funny. And I will name them. But, for now, I blog about my first haircut in over 12 years.

The first thing you need to know is that I needed one. Because when my hair begins to grow out...it does so only on the sides - especially along the sideburns. They get real thick and curly - kinda like a brillo pad meets Princess Lea's ear muffs meets a Chia pet. They also grow out flaming red. I'm telling you, it's not pretty.

Just ask my wife about the time I accepted a bet from (our church's) Management Team to grow it out for a month on the condition that I couldn't tell ANYONE why. I had to preach in it...I led meetings with it...and man oh man..the comments were beautiful. The question I got most often was quite benign: "Dan, are you growing your hair out?" they'd ask.
To which I'd reply, "Yeah...it's in the awkward stage right now."

I won the bet and earned $117 dollars that I used to buy Elise a better Christmas gift - which was a cheap consolation prize in comparison.

So, anyhow, about day #8 on our trip I began to hear things from others in the group like "Dan, your hair is really red, isn't it?" or "Hmmmm....it looks like we're going to get to see what Dan looks like with hair on this trip." Which is nice group talk for "Oh, THAT'S WHY you shave your head." My wife even began to worry about it and sent me the following instant message after looking at the most recent pictures I sent her:

EliseDeeble (12:35:27 AM): you are looking kinda red there budy

Never mind the spelling and the fact that my wife calls me "buddy." Point is, she doesn't like it when I have hair. And since I'M GOING HOME IN JUST 36 HOURS...I figured I better get gussied up. So, I called up the hotel operator and asked for the "Barbershop." They connected me to the "Beauty Salon."

They told me to walk-in and so I did. And, instantly, I felt out of place. I thought to myself, "This really is a place for people with hair." But I kept walking...went right up to the counter and feigned confidence. Told the gal I'd like a cut. She said, "Haircut and shampoo?" I said, "No...just cut." Because it seemed a bit indulgent to have a shampoo when I don't really have hair. I've found that many people are ignorant to the fact that bald men use shampoo - my wife being one of them, initially. As if the words "dry scalp" were a new phrase.

She nodded and led me into a back room. It was fancy. They sat me down in a chair and told me to wait. Everyone was dressed so nice and they all had hair. I felt silly. Every chair had a big mirror in front of it and I didn't know what to do. I wondered if I was just supposed to look at myself until someone came for me.

Then I got to thinking, "You know, I'm here. I'm a paying customer. I have hair. And I'd like a shampoo." So I told the lady. She looked confused, told me to wait, and left the room again. I could hear voices in Cantonese down the hall. I imagined laughter but they were too professional for that. The manager came back and said to me, "I'm sorry, sir, we will give you a shampoo after your cut." Which I guess is in reverse from what they do for everyone else and this is why it required explanation. So much for being equal opportunists. The guy next to me even had a nice cup of tea brought to him. They liked him better.

I wasn't sure if they knew what to cut nor how so I brought along Mia's little baby photo album - the kind with lots of colors and fishes that babies can look at and chew on all at the same time. When she asked how I would like my hair cut, all I had to do was point at the picture of me in there...the me with a perfectly buzzed head...and said, "Just like this." She nodded and lowered the clippers to their smallest setting.

They gave me a paper to read and away she went...buzzing and clipping and blowing for oh, I don't know, at least a minute and a half. Then the manager came in, pulled out a hand-held mirror from behind me and said, "Sir?" I assumed that she wanted me to inspect their work....which I pretended to do - kinda like I do whenever a nice restaurant gives me a sample pour. I swirl, sniff, elevate, tilt, and swash like cyrano but really don't have a clue what I'm doing.

I nodded approvingly and they led me back to the shampoo room. She wrapped my neck in a towel, gestured to a leather chair, and then leaned me back into the water basin. She began to pour warm soothing water over my head and then massaged shampoo into my scalp. I could tell that she was a bit confused and was trying to think creatively how to prolong the salon experience for me - since it really takes all of 5 seconds to shampoo my head. So she repeated a few of the same moves over a second or third time. I think she was trying to imagine shampooing someone with hair.

I didn't care and purred in my inner head, "Paco never did me so good!"

She rinsed me and then enveloped my head with a towel. Then she led me back to the chair. Now, that part was actually the most embarrassing. Because one goes back to the old chair to get dried off. And one needs a towel over one's head to prevent drippage. But, of course, I didn't need any such thing. My head was dry the minute she turned off the water.

Oh, but we weren't about to cut any corners. No sir.

I got back in my chair and she wrapped the towel over my head into the form of a woman's headdress - which, I'm guessing is the beauty salon way of wringing out a squeegee. Not sure, but I made her stop for a picture nonetheless.


note: this post was created while listening to the Beijing Angelic Choir's album entitled "Jasmine Flower." Actually, every post has been entered to this album b/c it is Mia's sleeping music.