It's that time again. The time that the ol' locks need some trimmin'. They've gotten a little bit out of control lately and the thing that was on the top their Christmas list was a little bit of love and attention.

I've mentioned before about the fear I feel when I walk into a hair salon. I still feel that the people who work there look at my long hair as though it were a big juicy steak that they're dying to slice into. With a butcher's knife.  That fear still exists. But in addition to fear, I also have an all around feeling of awkwardness. I walk in, the woman at the desk says "hello", and the rest of my stuttering goes something like this... "Um... Hi. I need a haircut. So... I came to the hair cuttery. Because you cut hair, and I need my hair to be cut. Could you cut my hair?" It would be so much simpler if I could just walk in, and since it is a hair cutting salon they could just assume I'm there to get my hair cut, and greet me with something like "Hi, you're here for a haircut, right? Sit down right there." Would save a lot of awkwardness.
Well, thankfully there were no butcher's knives handy and it turned out quite nicely.
See?

I am not a usual customer at hair salons. Anyone who knows me knows that with the exception of when I was a baby and for a brief period of time in college, I have had long hair all my life.

When I did cut my hair short in college, I donated it to an organization called Locks of Love that makes wigs for children, and people often ask me if that is why I'm "growing it out". While I have supported them in the past, and likely will donate to them again one day, really the answer is no. I just like having long hair.

But there is another reason. Most of the time, whenever I walk into a hair salon, everyone in the shop will look up at me. And they get this hungry look in their eyes. That look you see in cartoons, when they have been stranded on an island and are starving, and they begin to envision their friend as a giant walking t-bone steak. When I walk into hair salons, I feel like a giant steak that they're just dying to cut into and devour. It scares me, and I don't trust them. I will only go into a hair salon for a cut if I feel that I and my hair will be safe.