I have come to the conclusion that a barber chair is the true throne of lies. Not only do you hear the most absurd gossip, if people are anything like me, they are not exactly honest with their opinions of the hairdresser. A typical haircut for me usually goes like this:
Me:*walks to the chair like I would rather be headed to my execution*
Me: Just a trim please. (fully aware I shall be loseing what seems like a full ten inches of my lucious, soft brown locks.)
*squirt, squirt. Snipsnipsnipsnip*
Me on the outside: *smiling a plesent, but grim, smile*
Me on the inside: THATS MY SCALP YOUR RIPPING OFF WITH THAT EVIL COMB YOU WITCH!!!!
*grimices beautifully, showing my lovely teeth*
On the inside: EXCUSE ME?? Does that LOOK like hair????? That was my EAR you just snipped!!!!!
*screams most attractively*
*snipsnipsnipsnip*
On the inside: NONONO NOT THE SIDEBURNS! PLEASE I BEG OF YOU, LEAVE THEM!
*snipsnipsnip*
*closes eyes, hopeing to wake up*
This commences for the entire, grueling 3 minutes of torture, after which I have to live with my terrible haircut for all of a day, blessedly short only because of my amazingly fast growing hair, which looks roughly like it did before the haircut the next morning. Or maybe it actually WAS a dream, and I sucsessfully woke up....
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