Adventures in the Hair Trade

Getting my hair cut since I moved to Wellington has been an increasingly fraught experience. A year or so of people refusing to cut my hair any shorter than shoulder length, followed by some truly terrible shorter styles, culminating in the worst haircut ever. A haircut so spectacularly bad that I took one look at it after I’d washed it the next day, and said to Travis, “You’ll have to cut it for me.” He was understandably unkeen seeing as how he’d never cut anyone’s hair before. But he gave in and had a hack at the ends of my hair using our old nail scissors with the tiny curved blade. The original haircut was so ham fisted that Travis’s efforts improved it hugely.

Then there was my appointment last week with a different hairdresser, one that I know can give me a good haircut. Unfortunately, she didn’t bother. She just trimmed the edges of the awful cut and feathered it a bit around my face, giving me the kind of generic chin-length square, with random layers, and pieces of hair sticking out here and there, that I thought I’d left behind in the 80’s.

For some reason, this careless haircut was the final straw. I survived and was even a bit amused by the aggressively awful one. But, the indifferent one tipped me over from amusement to indignation. All of a sudden I was just over the struggle. I’ve been hanging on thinking that if I could just explain myself properly to the right person, that they would stop pissing around wanting to texture and layer my hair into limp unresponsiveness and give me a haircut that suits my thick, straight, fine hair. But I came home last Wednesday and thought, “no more.”

I’m too stubborn for my own good I think. I persevere and persevere long after a more sensible person would have decided that life’s too short to muck about in situations that don’t enhance their well being. My habit when faced with discomfort, is not to move away, it’s to try to brute force myself into being okay with the discomfort and brute force the discomfort itself into going away. When you try this with your hairdresser, the result is irritation and scruffy hair. No biggie. But employing this strategy with relationships or jobs or other major life issues can lead to unnecessarily protracted misery and frustration.

Note to self – if it hurts stop doing it; don’t do it harder.

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