A cut above the rest

            There are only a few times in my life when I wish I were a man, twice a year to be exact. When I get a haircut. Sadly, for women who like to keep their hair long, trimming can only happen two or three times a year. Men, however, get the pleasure of having their hair cut once or twice a month for less than half the price. I don't enjoy paying the cost for the hair I lose, but I sure love the treatment that comes with it.

            This afternoon, I had passed this great looking new salon that opened up in the neighborhood recently and thought to myself, as the split ends of my hair were being whipped in my face by the wind, today would be a great day to get that cut. When I walked into the salon, a nice middle-aged Latin woman at the door instantly greeted me. She asked me what she could do for me then lead me to the washbasin where her magic fingers washed and massaged my scalp as a Brazilian samba played overhead. I was instantly soothed by its jazzy tones and the stress of the week had seemed to wash down the drain with the jasmine scented shampoo she lathered on my head. This woman seemed like an angel that had come down from heaven to settle in my little neighborhood and bring me this pleasure twice a year. It had to be destiny.

            When the woman finished cutting away the worn ends of my hair she asked if I wanted my hair dried. I accepted, not wanting to be walking around with my hair dripping all the way home, like I had gotten caught in some random downpour that only came falling over on MY head. Pulled out her hair dryer like it was a gun drawn from a holster she went to work soaking up that H2O from my long locks. After the woman added the finishing touches, I went to pay for my royal treatment and the cashier quoted me the total. I nearly fell over. Sixty bucks! I asked the girl if there was a mistake, a cut was labeled at thirty dollars on the pamphlet. Apparently, the girl pointed out that a blow dry was an extra twenty-five dollars. What! That's nearly as much as my dang hair cut! If I had known that, I would have bolted out of there, after the cut and before she had a chance to towel dry my hair. There wouldn't have been any room for error that way. However, the deed was done and so I tucked my tail between my legs and forked over my hard earned sixty dollars, plus tip to the girls. So much for leaving my stress behind, instead I took some out with me to keep company on the walk home.   

            Apparently, men not only have the upper hand in the professional world, still, but it seems they have the monopoly in the hair world to boot. They can get a cut at any corner barbershop for ten bucks and leave with their hair dry or wet hair looking sexy. I could get a cut for thirty bucks but I'd walk out looking tragic. I need to stop getting my hair cut in this city and reconsider going back to having my mother cut my hair. It may look a little choppy in the end, but it's free. Blow dry included.