A Great Clip and the Aftermath
Sometimes art exorcises old pain, so here's the story of my most crushing haircut.
The Clackamas Promenade Great Clips had a sale which Mom booked me for because I was in high school and still not yet booking my own. I was seated in the swivel chair, the apron wrapped tight around my neck to shield from fallen hairs, and the stylist was snipping away when she said, rather suddenly, “I bet your mom needs a big stick.”
“What? Why?” I asked, because nothing about her sentence made sense to me.
“To beat back all the ladies,” she said, and went back to clipping.
I’m sure I blushed and stammered out a thank you for this was high praise indeed. I mean, I was fairly sure I was no Quasimodo, but this stylist was talking Monkees-level infatuation, that my looks might somehow bring about physical violence. Maybe she’s hitting on me? I wondered. In any case, the comment stayed with me, reverberating, for who doesn’t want to be associated with beauty?
Then, later that evening, I felt like the world’s biggest sucker when I was in the midst of a Simpsons rerun, and a Great Clips commercial came on offering discounts on haircuts—and a free compliment besides. I could barely hear the next commercial over the sound of air rushing out of my ego.
So that’s why she said it sort of monotone, I thought.
Perfect, Jordan. I’m too cheap to get my haircuts at fancy places, so I appreciated my Great Clips cut yesterday, with a chatty stylist commiserating with my dry frizzy hair! Ha, ha! Her’s didn’t actually look that great and I looked rather old, without the camouflage of glasses in the bright light. Nourishing hair treatments to come, never an interest.
I should say again that I’ve never been interested in messing with my hair!
the sound of air rushing out of my ego- such a great line. I'm so glad you shared this!