Greetings from a salon chair, where I'm getting the same haircut I always get, from the same woman who always cuts my hair. It's one of those budget places, so it really doesn't matter which person cuts my hair; I know I will emerge in about twenty minutes with same haircut I've had for the past ten years, fifteen maybe. It's not a good haircut. You can see the places where the stylist worked the guard above my ears, and my sideburns, or what's left of them, are never quite even. A week after getting the haircut, my hair starts to look both too long on top and too short on the sides. I try to fix it with gel, but I'm embarrassed by the idea of using gel, so I only use a super-tiny amount, which does nothing besides make my haircut look sort of shiny. Or windblown. Or frozen.
I always ask for the same stylist, even though I know she's not a very good stylist. She seems uncertain about my hair, hesitant. She doesn't know how to blend the short part with the longer part the way it's supposed to look. She often stops cutting and looks at my hair in the mirror, like she's trying to figure something out. But I always ask for her anyway.
One time she was working the clippers around the back of my neck and asked, "Do you like to leave the back looking natural or more like a block?" and I said, "I don't know; a lot of people say I'm naturally blockheaded," which I thought was a pretty good joke, but she didn't say anything.
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