Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Pimp my hair


Have you ever had a bad hair day?

Have you ever been in desperate need of a hairstylist and just went to the dodgy place on the corner that charged you an arm and a leg for a haircut like makes you look like a world class psychopath:


"It's not a wig. Piss off."


When you find yourself rolling on the floor too scared to face the mirror like this poor chap:


you know it's probably not a good idea to go back to "Unisex stylists- Where we buthcher hair."



I went for my hair cut again today and, as always, it feels as though I'm a new person: I have a walk those incompetent wannabes on Make Me A Supermodel prays for and dreams about, I have a new attitude that makes men glance at me twice with glee and women stare daggers into my back, I have a new smile that reminds you of long hot baths and messy duvetcovers, I have a new twinkle in my eye that says don't touch what you can't afford.

I'm still me, but my hairdresser just "pimped" me a little, I guess :)

His name is William. I have known him since my first hair disaster which happened when I was sixteen and the box of coloring said light ash blonde which is supposed to look like this:



(light ash blonde)

but ended up looking like this:


(I'm-going-to kill-myself-now-light ash blonde)


Not even my mother could look at me without cringing. My sister kindly suggested I go to her hairstylist which was according like a Rain man with scissors. When William saw me the first time, his words were: "The eighties are dead love, and so will your future sex life be if you walk around with that hair in public." I immediately fell in love with him.

William recently celebrated his fortieth birthday in Mauritius, but he doesn't look a day older than a well matured eighteen, I always tell him. He's been in a relationship with his partner for about fifteen years and it's the normal I-can't-live-with-you-but-I-also-can't-live-without-your-money-thing (the boyfriend being the broke one). William thinks that qualifies him as a relationship shrink. I nod in agreeance.

It really is like a therapy session when I go get my hair done. There is a very comfartable chair where I talk and talk and bitch and moan and cry and laugh while he listens and massages my head. Mostly he interrupts, but at least he can multi task, so I don't really have a problem with that.



Interrupting helps him get perspective on the situation, he says, and because I talk so much, he has to stop me every now and again to give advice before he forgets what he was going to say. That's his usual excuse. Sometimes he just interrupts me by playing a song that usually sums up his answer in a nutshell.

Once he played me I still haven't found what I'm looking for by U2 when I was complaining about my relationships only lasting two to three weeks; there was also the time he played me Prozac by Vanilla Ice when I asked him what makes people stay together for longer than fifteen years and then there was the time of my bad break up with that dickhead during varsity when William played me Somebody kill me please by Adam Sandler which he said was what he wanted to do the whole time whilst listening to the soppy story. He can be so sensitive, that William.

I've never walked into his salon with a photo or request because he just always shoots down the idea and chucks away the photo. So I complained about it the one time: he pretended to listen and then went ahead and did his own thing anyway.

William seems tough, but he's actually a real oyster with a beautiful pearl on the inside. He had a bad, bad childhood. His father was as loving to his sons in the same way Ted Bundy was towards woman. His mother passed away when he was still very young. William doesn't like to talk about his past much, but what he always mentions when he brings it up is the fact that his mother's death was something he could never get over.

"I think I would've turned out differently if she had stayed alive for long enough. When I think of her I can't breath and I want to turn around and die. What do you say, are we sharing a Valium?"

He started working when he was thirteen and dropped out of school when he was fifteen to go to the "big city" which is Johannesburg (around here anything bigger than a farm is considered the "big city"). I still remember when I was thirteen I was consumed by drooling over Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing and my main concern was what shoes went with what outfit (and I still have that concern today). But I can't imagine how hard it must have been for a young boy to survive on the streets in South Africa and support himself when he doesn't even have a fistful of chest hair yet.



William did and he made it and he has never looked back since.

When he's all done with my hair he stands back, folds his arms and says with a hint of a smile on his lovely face:

"You know, I think I like the girl staring back at me in that mirror. You have her name and number by any chance?"

Now I know he's gay and I know he's my friend, but it still feels damn good to get a compliment from a hot guy with a tight ass like him anyway.

And I walk out of the salon feeling like I deserve only the best and that I really shouldn't settle for anything less. Until the next day when I have to do that hair myself and William gets an anonymous pain in the ass.




(The song that comes to mind here is Reflections by Christina Aguilera: Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me ... )

16 comments:

Mr. Condescending said...

Its funny how real life psychos always have psychotic looking hair!

I found you via tennyson, would you want to do the "be my guest" project? I think it would be cool for us to see someone in S. Africa!

Eric said...

Cara mio, once you find a good hair cutter, pay them well and hope they never move... A lesson I have learned the hard way (although time heals all bad haircuts).

ladytruth said...

Mr. Condescending: welcome to my blog! I've heard so much about you ... ! Sure, I'd love to do the "be my guest" project. I might even throw in a picture of my giraffe, Lucy, in the back yard :)

Eric: luckily William just renovated his house so no moving any time soon (glory, halleluja). Now I just have to worry about old age: can you still hold a pair of scissors when you're a 102?

Mr. Condescending said...

Oh I can't wait to see your post!

Are you kidding or serious about the giraffe?

Since I'm mostly on my blackberry, I can't follow your blog until I'm on my pc, could you email me when you post it? Trailerfun@gmail.com

ladytruth said...

Mr. Condescending: you'll just have to wait and see about my Lucy ...

And yes, I will mail you as soon as I've finished my "homework assignment" ;)

otherworldlyone said...

Thank gawd my godmom is a hair dresser. I've only strayed twice...and both times I cried. Never again.

William sounds like a kick ass guy.

Gorilla Bananas said...

Maybe he's bisexual. Does your giraffe neck with other giraffes?

the girl with the pink teacup said...

Darling ladytruth, your description of your hairdresser had me laughing, yet almost wanting to weep. What a remarkable man, and what a life he's led. For fuck's sake, don't let him out of your clutches! A good hairdresser is worth his/her weight in gold. And I can't wait to see inside your house, now that you've seen inside mine (sort of...) Love to you, my dear.

ladytruth said...

otherworldlyone: yeah, I've strayed once as well and went crawling back ashamed to William who took much pleasure in cutting most of my hair off as it was one hot mess. He's probably the only man I've been loyal to since then ;)

gorilla bananas: I prefer to keep William as JUST my hairstylist because in any kind of relationship people are bound to be upset with each other some time or the other and I have no desire to end up bald any time soon.

the girl: William has that same effect on me and yes, he is a little gem worth hanging on to as a friend. It's just a bonus that he's a fantastic hairstylist as well.

I've already started working on my "house warming" and I promise it will be finished soon as the chaos that is work begins again next week. I really want to give you all a proper idea of what living in South Africa is like with the good and the bad

:-)

Madame DeFarge said...

I never go to the hairdresser, trusting my husband instead, but he does lack this type of relationship. Maybe I'll venture forth once more and grab myself a good 'un.

mo.stoneskin said...

I'm glad William has made it. Always makes me sad when I read of hard childhoods.

That "piss off" hair cut is actually identical to this dude I see on the trains. I reckon his wife cuts his hair, it is a cringe-worthy bowl-cut that has curling bits round his ears. Ugh.

ladytruth said...

Madame DeFarge: like I said - do NOT anger the person cutting your hair as you may end up like the boy in the first picture with a "Whoopsie Daisy, look how that razor simply slipped out of my hand" episode.

mo: don't look at the guy on the train too long. Psychopaths, remember?

Judearoo said...

Nothing beats a really good hairdresser. Especially one who gives a good head massage while they're at it. Once went into perfectly ordinary peter marks, guy washing my hair was about 16, tall gangly slightly spotty kid but OH MY GOD he had magic hands. I very nearly followed him home... Bliiiiiiiss! :D

The Peach Tart said...

Nothing makes a lady feel better than a new hair do that makes her feel young and sexy

ladytruth said...

Judearoo: you're right about "nothing beats a really good hairdresser." Wait no, maybe a bath full of melted dark chocolate beats that! Or Gordon Ramsey in a bath full of melted dark chocolate beats THAT! Or ... no, that can just be gross ;)

Peach Tart: welcome welcome! As for the new hair cut doing wonders for my already vain self: i agree. Anything to make a girl feel sexy and wanted ;)

Organic Meatbag said...

I feel that you are a lady telling us the truth, for you ARE Ladytruth! Since I am a 35 year old man with thinning hair on top, I am never able to be treated to a great hair styling appointment, so what I do is go to the dry cleaners... I ask them to press my pants...while I am wearing them... there is nothing as heart-warming as steamy pants!!!