I went to the hairdressers today... As always I found the experience traumatic and upsetting, for No Real Reason.
I've not had my hair cut since Olivia's cousin snipped the end of my ponytail off at New Year's Eve and the last time I had a proper haircut was last August, just before I went to Ibiza. Lauren's sister cut it for me in her house, so I didn't have to forgo any awkward head massages or small talk. (Obviously I talked to Lauren's sister, but it wasn't awkward because I know her and Lauren was there as well.)
Anyway, my hair's been disgusting for a long time. My one-time 'fringe' had grown into 90s boy band 'curtains' that I had to pin back everyday, or else suffer them to hang around my face in a limp, square frame. My mum messaged me the other day asking me about my hair, suggesting that I get it cut before my auditions to make me feel 'better' about myself... I assumed she'd seen photos of my outgrowing hair on Facebook and had decided it was so bad that she had to make me get a haircut.
I decided to go to 'Toni and Guy', just because I know the brand and I've been before, although I thought I'd try a different branch this time. I went to the one on Boulevard de Courcelles in the 17th.
I arrived all stressed out and edgy (as in on edge, not wearing leather leggings and a vest with a Hipster Triangle printed on it), sighing all the time and tutting at myself for No Reason... I was must have seemed like a mad old lady on the bus who wants someone to talk to her, but is still sane enough to realise that she can't just strike up a conversation with a stranger out of the blue; so she makes little noises of annoyance in the hope the person next to her will ask what's wrong and she can reply:
ITCHY LITTLE FINGERPRINTS ALL OVER ME SKIN, WIGGLY LIGHTS IN ME EYES AN' ALL.
My hairdresser was really nice and he mostly stuck to The Script- whenever I have to do something in Paris like go to the dentist or the bank, I like to work out a script in my head so I can learn my lines and it will look like I can speak French. If people go off-script I freak out a bit. That's why I like going to the bank- they always know their lines. People in bars, however, always ad-lib- really darling, they're impossible to work with.
I told him I had an audition coming up and I would be playing Shakespeare characters, so I didn't want anything too modern.
As he snipped away, I realised that he wasn't going to cut me a side fringe because I'd told him not to shorten my out-grown curtains. My hair was parted in the middle and my face looked like a perfect square. I got really worked up and had to stop myself from crying. Then the hairdresser saw my face and asked me what was wrong, so I told him that perhaps I should have a side fringe and he reminded me what I'd said about the auditions- a side fringe isn't very 'classic' and I wouldn't be able to pull it off my face.
He found my natural side parting, so it looks slightly better, but I still look weird. Also there is a square corner missing at the bottom of my hair from my Impromptu NYE haircut. He said he hadn't straightened it out because I'd told him to 'keep the length'. Pfffft.
"Great, it's much better, I love it, thanks." I said, before running out of there, my eyes welling up.
It wasn't the hairdresser's fault, I was just upset about my square face. I think I'm always disappointed when I go to the hairdressers because I expect them to make me look a different person at the end and obviously, they can't.
On the metro, there was a woman with no shoes on crawling around, singing and holding out a paper cup. Her feet and hands were all mangled. I did feel slightly, ahem, shallow, so I gave her a euro, which is kind of sickening when you think how much I've spent on my hair today.
In happier news, Mairi is coming to Paris for the weekend AND my cousin is coming as well, she's getting the train from Geneva tonight.
Also, Kayt's friend G.Shore has finally found a permanent apartment in Paris and it has an oven.... he's going home this weekend and he's given Kayt his keys! He's given us permission to have an Easter Roast on Sunday and it means my cousin and Mairi get to stay in a lovely apartment for the duration of their visit.
Finally, a couple of nights ago I went to the toilet in the middle of the night and opened the door to find my neighbour stood there, in the dark. She was facing the toilet and didn't seem to be doing anything. I screamed and said in English "You scared me!" and she answered me back in perfect English, "It's always you."
That was definitely not in the script.