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Hairdressers, Lovely People

It it weird that I REALLY like having my hair cut? I think it’s the attention. I’m not great at conversation usually, it’s true. But when I’m sitting in that chair, the center of attention, that feeling just sort of goes away, and it’s quite nice. Plus hairdressers are some of the best conversationalists ever, somehow. You’d think they’d just be talking rubbish, seeing as how they’re being asked to perform a vital service on the side, but they all seem to be pretty great. I can say that I’ve been to every single hair salon in the city, David Jones to the outskirts of Melbourne. It’s a hobby of mine, and also a collection of sorts. Of course, not all of them are the same and they fall at different spots on my 3-D ranking system, but I’ve generally enjoyed the experience.

At first I’d go in with different wigs and just not think about what it would be like if somebody noticed. Then it turned out that basically everyone noticed. They were lovely about it, and I suppose the job of a hairdresser IS to cut hair. Or dress hair. There’s nothing in the official manual that says it has to be attached to a person’s head. But I could never explain it, things got awkward and I kept having to move onto different salons since I felt embarrassed to go back to the old ones.

Now I just take supplements. They’re experimental for treating male pattern baldness, so I was pretty lucky that I make a living volunteering for that kind of thing. There are some side-effects, and I can’t really eat solid foods any more (by which I mean I shouldn’t, but I do treat myself sometimes), but otherwise I end up with a 60s-era mane of curly locks every week. I’ve made Monday my day to visit a hair salon, Melbourne still has quite a few hairdressers who need to be placed onto my comprehensive system. I’ve got the hair, I have the drive, and I enjoy it anyway, so…easy.


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