I found a split end and Dewie is starting to look like a librarian, so it’s time for haircuts. Dewie calls our old pal Weezie and makes an appointment. We walk into the salon and Weezie is there and standing behind her is a human match stick. Weezie stands to the side to give us a full view of the skinniest live person I have ever seen in my life. She has pale, thin blond hair cut short in some kind of asymmetrical bob, and it does not appear that the asymmetry was on purpose. Weezie introduces us.
“Molly, Deb, this is my new girl, Deann. She’s just learning, but she’s got real potential. Whaddya say I do the short cut and Deann here can try Molly?” Crap. I really want to ask Deann if she cut her own hair, but something about her prominent shoulder blades makes me think even a suggestion of an insult will make her collapse into a pile of weeping bones.
“Sure, why not?” Weezie smiles appreciatively and we all take our seats. Deann tries to pin my hair up with one of those clippy things while she puts the cape on. She twist it up, clips it, it falls. She does this about three times before I reach back, take the regular sized clippy thing and hand her one of the big ones. She offers a tiny smile.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” She finally gets me situated, then releases the hair. She begins to brush it out. The more she brushes, the bigger her eyes get.
“Uh, how much do you want to take off?”
“About two inches.”
Weezie pipes up, “One inch.”
“Two inches.”
“ONE INCH.” We have this argument every time I go in. I assume she is trying to make me keep my hair as long as possible. She cuts her eyes at Deann who is combing out hair that’s already combed out. She is stalling. “We might need to leave a little room for TRAINING.” Holy crap. Am I her first haircut ever? I’m not even completely convinced that she can hold up the weight of the scissors with her skeletor hands.
“Ok, you old bat. One inch.” I catch Deann’s eyes in the mirror. She is clearly terrified. “You can do this. It’s just basic long layers. “ She nods but she’s still frowning.
“You have a LOT of hair.” I am unsure how to answer this. Is this a trick question?
“Uhhhh… true?” She is still just standing there. What are the magic words that will make her start cutting? “You know Deann, you can’t will it shorter. You do have to actually cut it.”
“Yeah.” Weezie looks over. She looks annoyed.
“Take some of the weight off first, and then start the layers.”
“Yeah. Ok.” She actually makes a cut, but she has not sectioned it off. “There’s just so much hair. I can’t see my lines.” Ok, I’m not a cosmetologist, so I have no idea what lines she’s talking about. I’m not completely positive that she knows. Weezie walks over.
“You can’t just cut her hair like that. It’s too thick and heavy, you have to cut it in sections.”
Deann finally figures it out, pulls up half of my hair (after I once again give her the big clips) and starts cutting tiny bits off the ends of my hair. After about 20 minutes Weezie comes back over,”
“Hey, you cut a straight line.” I am slightly annoyed that she sounds surprised. She will pay for this. “Now start the layers.”
“I’m not good with long layers.”
“Just try.” Weezie demonstrates by cutting a few snips. Her hands work too fast for me to catch, so I know Skeletor has not seen a thing because her reflexes are delayed by malnourishment.
“Maybe you should show her slower, Weezie.” Weezie slows down her hands. Son of a…there’s some sort of weird wrist twisty thing going on that I know Deann will never get. Deann tries.
Weezie yells in my ear ,“No! Turn your wrist over. You’re cutting it the wrong way.” Deann turns her wrist over and snips. This is just getting painful. When I said I wasn’t in a hurry I didn’t realize that I had committed myself to sitting in this chair for the better part of the afternoon. After a couple more demonstrations, she finally gets it. She manages to make it all the way around my head. Weezie inspects it. “Not bad.” She’s lifting sections of hair and letting them fall. “But this side is about a half inch shorter than the other. You need to even it up.” Skeletor looks like she’s about to cry. I spin around to face Deann.
“Look, sweetie. It’s just hair. It’s not a big deal. If you make a mistake, it will grow back. You can do this.”
“Ok. But there’s just so much of it.” This is just getting ridiculous. I get it. I have thick hair. But it’s just on the thick side of normal. It’s not like it’s freakishly, gorilla thick.
Deann actually starts to cut at a pace that might get me out of this place before dinner. When she finishes, Weezie comes over and makes a few corrective snips and declares me finished. I make sure to fuss over it a little extra even though it’s just my normal haircut and leave a significant tip. Maybe by the time I need another trim Deann will have had a little more practice.
