One problem with having hair on the scalp is that it doesn’t stop growing. It’s not that I am complaining because at my age, having hair on my scalp is something thankful for!
It’s just what, when you are in a foreign where your currency is merely less than 1/3 of its value back home, and where a decent hair cut in the city could cost anything between AUD 25 to 45 (and we are talking about hair cut for MEN here), getting a hair cut could hurt the pocket a lot! For that kind of money, I could probably get a hair cut, a manicure, a pedicure and possibly a full body aromatherapy massage thrown in back home!
I tried to stave off cutting my hair for as long as I could but in the end, the unmanageable tuft on my scalp and the approaching summer got to me! I had to have a hair cut!
So, it was with great joy when I heard that along Elizabeth Street (where the famous Queen Victoria Market is), are 3-4 barber shops which charge between AUD 9.95 to AUD 10 per hair cut!
When I got there a few days ago, all the shops have yet to open for business. After loitering for a bit, the first shop opened and I quickly made my way in. The barber turned out to be a Vietnamese lady who spoke little English.
I tried telling her, and quite animatedly so, that I would like a trim but she kept asking me, “You want number 1 or number 2?!!”
Being quite clueless as to what she was referring to, I smiled and nodded my head, sat down, and took off my spectacles (which meant I could not really see in the mirror in front of me, what the lady was about to do!).
Soon I heard the whirling of an electric hair trimmer and I saw clumps of hair falling off!
I swear the woman must have been a landscape artist or a specialist in Napalm before she became a barber for lo and behold, before many minutes were passed, she has turned my once heavily tufted crown into a barren land of stubble, each strand of hair being not longer than 3 mm!
I quickly got up from the chair, paid the butcher AUD 10 and exited the place. When I got back to my apartment and took a good look at what she has done with my hair, I was in distress.
Anyway, to cut the story short, in a very self-conscious way, I went to work, half expecting people to stop and stare (or seeing little children back away in horror) but nothing like that happened! In Melbourne, no one gives a d*mn about how you dress or look! After a while, I didn’t even notice it myself (except for the occasional momentary shock I give myself when I look into a mirror and see an almost bald guy staring back at me!)
In fact, I kinda like running my hand over the prickly short hair. It’s kinda like caressing a baby porcupine!
The upside of the whole incident, of course, is that I probably won’t need another hair cut for at least 3 months!
Fri, 121110 @ 1000