Fun with hair
14 December 2006

Getting my hair cut has been a battle all my life. As a child, there was a constant struggle between my mother and I when she took me to the hairdresser (she used to cut our hair but then I guess she later decided she was too busy). I would always ask the hairdresser (for some reason, I recall it being a bloke in a shop near the home) to go as short as he could, and my mother would always say no. “Shorter.” “No.” “Shorter.” “No.”

I dabbled with long hair when I was 14, cut it off when I was 15, tried again at 17, cut it off when I was 18 (left a tail! Agh!), got a flat-top when I was 19 and almost gave my mother a heart attack, tried for the last time when I was 25 (got too lazy to go for a haircut, essentially) and cut it all off when I was 26.

My normal standard of measurement with hairdressers is how much they charge. The favourite in Perth was only $12. In China, I preferred to get my hair massacred for 15RMB rather than a trim for 300RMB (wouldn’t you?). The only exception I’ve made is in Singapore, where Laurence has made several hundred off me over the last six or seven years. But he understands my needs, so I put up with the rates and inflation-adjusted increases. Sigh.

Girls with long straight hair will hate me. My hair is usually very well-behaved. Too well-behaved, in fact. I’ve been into the bed head, messed up look for years. Unfortunately, without the aid of ultra hold, so-crisp-it-could-snap-off gels, my hair just tends to sit there fairly uncontroversially. No flyaways, no unruly curls, adequate body. I just wash and go. Wash and go. No ‘comb’ in between. There’s no point in putting product in my hair — believe me, I’ve tried. After ten minutes (sometimes only eight) of looking trendily mussed, my Singaporean DNA calls upon my hair to do its duty and obey gravity. I just end up with greasy hair.

Except for the last couple of days. My hair’s grown out a little bit, so it’s kind of a long-ish crop right now. And I’ve got these two locks over my left ear that won’t lie straight. WTF? They sit there like freaking immovable statues when they’re short, now they’re longer and heavier it’s time to act like a freakin’ hippie?

And yeah, that whole post was written so I could complain about those two locks of hair.

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