I need a haircut. It’s passed the point of intolerable. The ends are split, my bangs have grown out and my hair is generally shapeless.
But I loathe going to the salon. I really do. Having to just sit there, while the stylist is snip snip snipping my hair and forcing me into small talk (“Where do you work?”, “Do you like it?”, “How long have you been working there?”). I’ve never been the type of person that goes into a salon, says hello to everybody and chats up the stylist with guy troubles and beauty tips. No, I’m more of a get-in-get-out kinda’ girl. I just want to tell you what I want, get my hair cut in non-awkward silence, pay and leave. Frankly, I find small talk to be draining. I tend to leave the salon feeling awfully tired when I give in to it. And not only that, but getting my hair cut reminds me of being at the dentist (“Put your head this way”, “Tilt that way”). It’s kind of a drag.
Depending on who I’ve told this to, I’ve gotten a range of reactions from “Really? You’re so weird” to “I know exactly what you mean!” to “Sometimes, you just need to relax and stop being so neurotic”.