I recently entrusted a nice Japanese man named Tatsuya with my hair. I don't know why I did it, considering I had never been to the salon before nor knew anyone who had gotten a haircut there. But I read some great reviews on Yelp and I felt pretty confident that my fellow NYC dwellers knew what they were talking about.
Now, the haircut itself is not that bad. For a short do (think of Monica's hair from Season Two of Friends after Phoebe accidentally cut it like Dudley Moore's haircut and they have to make it shorter to make it look cute), it's nicely done and nicely layered. Here's the real problem: it makes me hella old.
Okay, what is "hella old," exactly? Well, I don't look 40 or anything but I definitely look like I'm about to enter my 30s. Which is the truth except I don't want to look like the truth. Sigh, it's sad but it's true, I am having anxiety about getting old and I fear that my next steps may be plump hips, a FUPA, maybe an old Korean lady pa-ma (for you non-Koreans, that's the short haired perm middle aged Korean ladies get when they decide to throw in their sexual appeal towel), and a waist that's the same circumference as my hips and my chest. Am I really this vain?
I've even thought about getting hair extensions but in this economy and its massive layoffs that happen every other day, I'm not quite sure it's a great investment. And everyone keeps saying to me, "It's hair, it grows out," and the rational side of me knows that's true and that I'm being ridiculous. But what if my hair grows out and it's not the same? What if cutting it all off has set off a chain reaction I cannot stop? What if my long hair was the only thing really connecting me to my 20s and now that it's gone, I have officially entered my 30s?? Lesson - never trust a man named Tatsuya wielding scissors.
