Hair

On Saturday afternoon I went to the hairdresser's and had a short haircut. I knew the salon was there but I had never looked inside. Three female employees stood next to the till. I was standing at the door, then stepped sideways on the pavement and looked through the window. Some women were having their hair washed. My reflection on the glass was making me nervous. Fearing someone may notice me and thought I was a pervert, I walked past and carried on walking unhurriedly for about fifty metres pondering what to do. I made up my mind momentarily. I stopped, turned around and walked decidedly back to the shop before I could back out.

I didn't ask for such short hair; it was the hairdresser's decision, as I had given her freedom of action. After all, my experience is you don't need to describe to them in detail what you want because they usually follow their own instincts, and, to be honest, it's hard to know what exactly you want. I prefer to delegate such vital judgments to a professional. When I'm asked, I always hear myself saying quietly, Cut it shorter than it is. But everyone interprets my words in a different manner. Even when I've been forced to be more specific, the end-result has always been a surprise. Is that what I asked for? I'm a genius! —on those occasions I liked it—, or I must measure my words next time, when it was not so satisfying. I am quite happy I got rid of that dishevelled mop of hair, in any case. It's getting increasingly hot and I am cooler now (not as in ¡qué guay!). Even so, I would suggest banks in general, and Carrefour in particular, turn up the air conditioning. I was dying in the queue in all three banks I went to this morning.

So, please, don't say anything, ignore me, don't embarrass me more. You can smirk at me, bent double with laughter or writhe around on the ground for all I care, but if you have nothing else to say, keep quiet!

By the way, a weird thought has been tormenting me all along: I didn't see a single (or married:) man in there. Could it be a women's hairdresser's, by any chance? That might help explain the bewildered look on the hairdresser's face when I asked her whether I could have a haircut. Ahem... let's not make it more difficult. I don't want to know.