Thursday, December 3, 2009


Before anyone breezes through this post thinking it is some feminist rant let me assure you it is not. Although I probably could go off on one of those for a few paragraphs. However, I did feel objectified today and in the most unlikely of places, a salon. Usually when you go to a salon the person cutting your hair chats it up with you a bit, not today.

I went to get a hair cut because it seems when one has short hair that is all one does with dispensable income, or in my case non-existent dispensable income. Nevertheless, vanity won out and I went to the salon to get, I am ashamed to say, my 5th haircut of the year. I use to be an every 6 months or so girl and the change to every other month is disheartening.

Back to feeling objectified. I went the the Above Ground Salon, perhaps named for it's singular distinguishing characteristic of being above ground? I actually like my hair cut on one hand I was struck by the stylists perfect melding of hair science and art. She really knew what she was doing. But the hour and a half process, the number of people watching and running their fingers through my hair and the fact that my stylist stated that she could "conquer my hair" left me feeling a little subhuman.

At one time there were four people standing around watching my hair... not me, my hair. When I made a joke about it they either looked at me like I was an alien or ignored me. Most of the time my hair was in front of my eyes so there was no connection between them and me. I felt a little like a model, not the kind that gets lots of attention and gets to tell people they make bad clothes, but the kind who has to sit in art class in their underwear or in the nude so people can sketch.

Here's a bad self-take of the end result. It is probably the only day it will look as shiny and straight as she did it. The hair cut wasn't enough so I had to jazz it up by wearing this hoodie:)


Kirsten said...

wonder what they would do if I brought my hair in for a cut?

e said...

I like it. The cut, that is. What a weird experience. I hate salons. Well, really, I hate the inane chatter. I really would just like to read a book and have a hair cut at the same time. Luckily I found a quiet metro-y man. Unfortunately he charges an arm and a leg. So, I remain an every 5-6 months sort of gal.