I hate going to get a haircut, but I enjoy getting my hair cut. Let me help you understand with more examples. I hate going to amusement parks, but I enjoy going on the rides. I hate riding the subway, but I like not walking. I enjoy eating a restaurant quality meal from my home, but I hate talking on the phone, even to order takeout. Haircut deliveries, that’s a million dollar idea. Have I properly confused you yet? Good, let’s talk about my experience with haircuts.
Remember when Aunt Petunia shaved Harry Potter’s head in the first chapter and it grew back the next day? Does anyone else read Harry Potter religiously? That’s what my hair does too. Maybe I’m magical, I never received my Hogwarts acceptance letter, but my hair grows at an incredible speed. The bald have it so easy. I wait as long as possible to get a haircut despite my hair only looking good at medium length, and that doesn’t last long. So I look bad most of the time.
I used to get my haircut from the local barber in town, but I eventually stopped going because he wasn’t a good barber. I was perfectly fine with getting subpar haircuts the rest of my life, the barber was nice and he always gave me a lollipop, but my father and brother felt differently, apparently they cared about their appearance. Don’t misunderstand, I didn’t like his haircuts either, but I’m too stubborn and too awkward to change barbers. I thought mushroom haircuts were cool, they’re not, but I’m pretty sure I would have been satisfied with that for the rest of my life if it meant I got candy afterwards.
I went to Super Cuts a few times, but that ended after a woman sliced my ear. It was not a super cut. I had my hair shampooed there once, that was amazing. Now I usually wash my hair with shampoo when I occasionally take showers, but there’s just something about having someone else wash your hair that’s so appealing. The rest of your body remaining dry is a neat perk too. If only they didn’t cut my ear.
Luckily for me another barber opened up in town and that’s the place my brother and I continue to go. We’ve been going for years; and I dread going every time. There are a lot of reasons I don’t enjoy going and most of them revolve around the barber.
I graduated from college 2 years ago and the barber still thinks I’m in high school. This isn’t a senile old man we’re talking about, he just doesn’t care. We talk, I hate talking, but we’ve talked! I wore my college alumni shirt one time and he still asked me how high school was going. I can’t blame him too much here, I still get carded for R-rated movies.
The barber has a shaved head, that’s ridiculous! That’s like the local butcher being a vegetarian, or the local skydiver being afraid of heights, or the local homeless guy being mayor. It just pisses me off.
I remember telling him to cut my hair short, but not too short, the first time I went to him. Yeah it’s a bogus order, but I never know what to order for anything. I panic at restaurants and forget how to spell my last name upon request, it has 5 letters! It’s also my last name! I never had to tell my pervious barber what to do, he’d just cut my hair, poorly, but that’s what I liked about him. The barber says this EVERY time I get a haircut.
“Short not too short buddy?”
I’m not your buddy guy!
He also accuses me of using soap to wash my hair. Who uses soap to wash their hair? It may have been funny the first time, it wasn’t, but he makes this joke every time!
I mean the guy gives a good haircut, so the trip isn’t all bad. I don’t want to say I come out of there looking finer than Patrick Swayze saving Baby from a corner, I mean I’m no Swayze, but I look prettay swag walking out the barber. For a bald guy he sure can handle scissors okay.
Their are 2 barbers at the shop, my brother always goes first and always gets the barber that doesn’t say anything. I always get the owner who mentions my soapy hair and asks me about high school. It’s torture. He charges $20 for a haircut, but it feels like I’m paying him to annoy me, and he doesn’t even give me candy! The cost of haircuts are too high for the enjoyment I don’t get out of them.
I don’t like going to other barbers because I don’t know what to order. “Make me look good.” Can I say that? That’s why I get haircuts. An Australian barber used a 5 razor on my head once and I loved how I looked after. I tried asking for that at my usual barber and he just laughed. He probably thought, “who does this high school kid think he is? Short not to short right buddy?” …Yes. I feel like an idiot for agreeing to this too, I get no respect from the other customers waiting.
People waiting for haircuts are vultures, I hate them too! I left for a second to refill the meter, because it takes forever for my turn at the barber, and some old bald guy nabbed my spot. Why did this bald man need a haircut so desperately? Is this how adults make friends? I swear bald people look out for one another.
Does anyone know what to say when they hold the mirror to the back of your head? “Yes, that’s what the back of my head usually looks like. Indeed.” He could show me anything and I would just nod and smile.
Yesterday we go get a haircut, the owner is working on someone and my brother gets the good barber, Silent Bob. The owner finishes first, and as I get up to accept my fate, he tells me he’s getting lunch. What a jerk for being hungry, but it gives me another chance to get Silent Bob. How cruel would the Gods be if this were but a ruse to delay my inevitable haircut with the owner. It wasn’t. The owner comes back as I’m sitting down, maybe I’m not his favorite customer either, and then he does something I never noticed before. He asks his patron if he wanted his hair cut short not too short…That’s when it hit me, maybe he says this to everyone. Maybe I’ve been making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe I need to grow up.
I made fun of my brother for writing one of his college essay’s on how he felt like an adult getting his haircut alone. Despite that being adorable, I’ve probably been the childish one all along. I’ve secretly hated a man and dreaded getting haircuts because of tiny idiotic reasons. Maybe I’m just an idiot, I’m sure my writing doesn’t persuade anyone otherwise, but I should have enjoyed the haircuts.
It was entirely my fault too, I could have solved my problems by changing barbers, but I didn’t. I made mountains out of molehills and couldn’t enjoy something I should have. There are more stressful things in life, and most of them can’t be solved by simply going to a different barber; but I’m sure a positive outlook and not taking things personally can make every situation much more enjoyable. I look forward to my next haircut, and judging by how fast my hair grows back, that’ll be tomorrow.