Well, I very rarely go to the beauty salon. . . in fact, I can count the number of times I've been to get my hair done on both of my hands. But I figured that this was a matter that needed professional care, so I picked the place down the street that I've driven by a few times. . . and it didn't look very scary in there. Well it was a very interesting experience because when I went in everyone was speaking spanish. When I told the lady that I wanted to get my hair cut, she told me to sign in and have a seat (they don't take appts here) but after I signed in she said something to me that I didn't understand. So I said "what?" and she said it again. . . once again, no comprehension. Then she says "Don't you speak Spanish???" ummm. . . no. I don't speak Spanish, not a single lick of yet. Yes, that may seem horrible. How can I live in the U.S., where Hispanic-speaking people are the fastest growing population. Well, in my defense, I took French in high school . . . and I'm fluent in Mandarin. . . which means that I can communicate with over 25% of the world's population. So there.
Back to the salon though, after we cleared up that I don't speak Spanish, we had to clear up a whole nother issue. The beautician couldn't seem to comprehend that I wanted to cut off all my hair. Yes, all my hair, that's what I said like a million times. Are you sure she kept saying? Look, I've done this before. . . it's not that big of a deal. And if it's too short and I hate it all I have to do is give it a couple months and it won't be too short anymore. And besides, I figured she's a Dominican beautician, which my sister says are the best, so surely she won't screw up. Well as is usually the case, she finally agreed to do it, all the while looking apprehensive, and the lady in the chair next to me mourned for my lost hair. Please, I'm just happy to have a lighter head. . . at least now my head weighs 8 lbs. like everyone else instead of 12 lbs. In fact, I should step on the scale just to see how much weight I've lost.
In the end, it all worked out fine. My hair is all gone. . . yes, it's short like a boy. The stylist was actually really good, guess my sister really knows what she's talking about. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. . . at the moment, I think I just need to get used to it. The girls seem to like it, and Robert really likes it. And isn't that what's most important? After all, he's the one who has to look at me everyday. Personally, I'm thinking it might be a little too short. But like I said, give it a couple of months and it'll be just right.