Oops...

There are three professions in which "oops" should never be said.

1) Airplane pilot.

2) Piano mover.

3) Hair stylist.

My long, flowing locks...gone.

I knew I was in trouble when I asked for a trim. Just a small trim. Clean up some of the more aggressive curls in the back. The woman cutting my hair used clippers to get rid of a few of them, and then, my head snapped back and to the right like JFK's in Dallas. The clippers grabbed a hold of my hair and yanked out a chunk about the size of a good golf divot. I looked at the clippers as the device ate my hair, and wondered what evil madman developed such a vile, barbaric tool.

On the floor, my hair rested. In the chair, my neck and scalp gave a bit of a groan for being nipped, then, a sense of shock hit me as hard as I imagined the hair hit the floor. I felt, for the first time in months, cold and fresh air hitting the back of my scalp.

The woman, Asian, about 50, said "oops."

I said "What happened?"

"Clipper snagged," she said curtly.

I had explained to her earlier that I wanted to grow my hair out to make a wig for a cancer patient, and just needed a small trim to clean me up.

What I didn't need was her saying "Lookie how hansome you look!" and grinning like an idiot.

Now, this is where I should explain something - I love the fact that America is a great big melting pot. All sorts of nationalities and ethnic groups in this land gives me a sense of hope and joy. But the woman who cut my hair - with her pidgen Engrish and overdone voice and facial expressions in the vein of Margaret Cho making fun of her Korean mom - turned me, momentarily, into a violent, raging Republican. "THE IMMIGRANTS ARE TAKIN' OUR JOBS!! BUILD THE WALL!! SCREW THE U.N.!"

I looked in the mirror, and saw me looking back, but not the 2007/2008 version of me. It was more like the 1998/2004 version of me, the "trying to get ahead in the corporate world" version. The high-strung, kinda pissy version. That was not my favorite Me.

Still, stunned as I was over the loss of me beloved, flowy hair, I said "What is this?? I asked for a trim! This is not even close to what I wanted!"

She said, and I wish I was joking, "you no look like girl no more."

My temper boiled over. I'm 5'9" and 205 pounds. I have facial hair. I'd be one large, ugly, hairy woman.

So, I did something that I haven't done in years. I asked her to finish up, and I walked out.




Coming soon, a tribute to my hair.