the barber

I don’t go to a hairdresser, I go to a barber.

She weighs 52 kilos and she is a boxer and a cage wrestler. Her biceps are impressive.

Her shop is not far from my house.

Thats her washing hanging out the front.

If I sit on my back verandah its just a hop skip and jump away.

Or a walk down the lane way, across one small road to that black car, across the highway, then a fifty metre walk up the main street.

Which is why she lets me walk home with my foils in so I can wash them out at home. This saves me sitting in the shop for an hour waiting for the bleach to work, paying for her to sit there with me, and then paying her to wash and dry my hair.

Win, win situation.

And really, I live in the kind of place where no one even looks twice at a woman walking down the main street with foils in her hair and a little hand towel wrapped around her shoulders.

Chicken Little is not sure about it at all.

I think I look like I just stepped off the Labryinth film set.

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16 thoughts on “the barber

    • I’m thanking the gods she doesn’t have long hair! The amount of hair she sheds is incredible considering the little amount she seems to have. It must renew every night.

    • I hate going to the hairdressers, it always seems such a waste of time so I’ll do anything to keep out of there.

      The phone covers are from a site called gelaskins, they do skins for iphones, laptops and e readers. They have some fantastic designs, I’m just about to order another one.

  1. What a cool little town that you can stroll from your house to the hair dresser’s and back! But I think there’s a law in Cali that says you can’t do your own hair once the hairdresser starts putting chemicals in it—it has something to do with customer safety and licensing rules. (Probably created by the hairstylists’ industry.) I just had my hair colored today, and my hairdresser said she couldn’t let me touch my own hair once she started putting dye all over it. It was almost scary, the way she put it.

    • Lol, I walk my son to his car when he visits, often in my pj’s and it’s a bit of a hike. He tells me I’ll become known as – that woman who walks around Newcastle in her pyjamas. Not that he can talk. I put him on a bus the other night in a toga.

    • It makes such a difference. I know some people love the whole hairdresser experience, the gossiping and the coffee etc but I just hate it all. I always feel like I’m wasting time.

  2. I share your aversion to hairdressers. I go every six months, if that. I feel uncomfortable having another woman’s tits thrust against the back of my head.

    • Lol, well this one only weighs 52kg so the tits aren’t massive. Although I do have a similar problem with my chiropractor. I feel silly when I’m lying on the table and he’s standing behind me with my head in his hands ready to crack and I just know his groin is right there almost touching the top of my head. I get the giggles every time and he must think I’m a fruitcake.

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