Fairy Haircut

    FROM THIS            TO                   THIS!

I walked into my regular hairdressers couple of weeks ago as I needed an urgent trim; my hair was a bit of a mess.  I had to attend a wedding later in the afternoon and didn’t really want to turn up and have my picture taken with the bride and groom looking like Lenny Kravitz’s long lost brother.

As I entered the reception area, I realised there was no Sandra, my regular hairdresser, quite possibly the one and only person I actually trust to touch my poor excuse for an afro.  Uh oh...  maybe she was on a break.  In the immortal words of Kylie Minogue, I should be so lucky.  As it turns out Sandra had left to go back to Italy and set up her own beauty shop. 

Oh how I wish I had a private jet to fly me to Florence for one last haircut by Sandra because who did I have here waiting to cut my hair, none other than Mike.   Mike and his manboobs to be more precise.  Oh the dread, the fear, I so should have walked out as soon as I knew my beloved Sandra was there no more. But I was powerless, already being hypnotised by his manboobs, being directed to the chair like I was about to have root canal treatment at the dentist.

All I wanted was the usual, but what did Mike know about my usual, he normally just winks at me and licks his lips as Sandra used to cut my hair.  So I explained to him that I just wanted a trim all over, nothing fancy, no colours, no tips, no experimenting.  Only a simple request to not cut my hair too short, ideally just a nice neat cut as I’m off to a wedding in the afternoon.

As Mike set to work, my fear became reality; I could feel his huge meatloafs being pressed against the back of my head on a regular basis.  At this point I would say he made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but I don’t think even my neck hair was brave enough to contemplate being molested by Mikes giant man nipples.  As he worked his way round to the front, a sense of fear took over as I imagined he would cut the top of my hair up close and I would practically be breast feeding. So I panicked and closed my eyes and tried to make conversation, oh and it had to be a manly conversation as anything short of this would not suffice. 

So the conversation ranged from my rip off BMW car service to England winning the 6 Nations Rugby.  Good strong bloke talk, this was more like it, I was now beginning to feel at ease, I mean we could have just been any 2 regular chaps chatting in the pub or down the local Indian having a chicken tikka masala.  Or so I thought, because at this point Mike chuckled and piped up that he fancied taking up rugby, especially the scrum part.  I had no comeback, I could only remain silent. 

It had been a good few minutes since I had closed my eyes so decided to have a quick peak, now I only opened my right eye for a quick blink and I'm pretty sure that Mike also had his eyes closed as he fingered my hair in what seemed very much like slow motion.  Right about now I needed Lee Harvey Oswald on a rooftop opposite to just take me out of my misery.

A full twenty five minutes later, Mike and his man boobs had finished.  As I opened my eyes to take a look, I was left stunned.  My eyes nearly filled up, my jaw dropped and a deep sigh was all I could manage.  I think a full minute passed before I could compose myself to say a word. Mike and his giant manboobs had decided to cut my hair with all the subtlety of a lumberjack with a chainsaw let loose in the Amazon rainforest.  I certainly don’t remember asking for a hair cut that would make me look like I was about to go join the navy (even if I do like the uniforms... oops thats for another post).

Do you want to know what Mike had done? well Jimi Hendrix to Kojak in 25 minutes, that’s what he had done.  I mean I could literally feel my scalp; you could so easily use my head to sand down some patio furniture before varnishing it to get it ready for the summer.

He then showed me a mirror to see the back of my head.  Yes, thank you Mike, the backs just as shit as the front.  Thank you for chopping off my curly locks and making me look like a prison inmate from Strangeways.  Definetley the look I wanted for the summer.

All I could think of and pray was that my hair would grow back.  You see at my age you don’t really want a haircut where the sun can bounce off your head and blind your partner unless she is wearing sunglasses.

I should mention that when I walked back into house, my 7 month old niece started crying as she didn't recognise me, I nearly broke down too.  Oh how I wish I tweaked Mike’s giant manboob nipples before leaving, though something tells me he may have enjoyed that.

Thankfully my hair has grown back and all is well again, well, until the next time of course.

Peace Love & Happiness 

TanRockStar