The best part about getting your hair cut is when they rub your head.
Last week, the stylist rubbed "clay" into my scalp in order to make my hair stand up at the root. (on purpose)
I wanted more clay.
"More clay?" I tried to ask, but I was drooling.
This I get from my mother. You just have to reach up and flick a speck of lint from her hair and her head drops forward, her shoulders hunch and she starts drooling. Then she nudges you with her elbow, the rest of her still slumped, and mumbles, "More". At that point you're stuck and have to rub her head, but it's all right, because she'll do it back.
Anyway, the worst part about getting your hair cut is when they make you feel guilty for not buying "Product". When you ask how much it costs, they are very, very vague. But then they're rubbing it into your head, and you feel all your muscles go slack, and you're swaying back and forth in the chair and your head nods and suddenly it seems that you've agreed to buy the stuff.
It just appears up there on the counter next to your Visa receipt.
So, I guess sometimes you take the good with the bad.
.
