Jack's first haircut. That's something I want to rant about. I took him to the kid friendly place in town. The kids get to sit in red plastic cars and watch DVDs. I didn't want him to get his hair cut. I loved his beautiful soft baby curls. But they were getting unmanagable. He is neither the kid, nor I the parent for a daily hair brushing routine (getting him to do his teeth is bad enough).
So, finally, we got to the point last week where one of the curls started dreading and I conceeded to the haircutting.
The £8 charge seemed reasonable given the mess I would have made of it, so I booked him in. My instructions were specific. I wanted something that wasn't too short, wasn't too severe and cut into I realise know the only way to get the hair cut I wanted would have been to call him Jacqueline for day and then they'd never have gone for the short monstrosity he was left with. I was practically in tears by the time I intervened and begged the stylist to keep some of the volume in the back, the only big which was still looking okay until she started attacking it with her sicissors.
"He looks like a proper boy now," they cooed afterwards. Who the fuck are you sto say what a boy should look like? How dare you enforce your gender politics onto my child. Only I didn't say anything. I mumbled thanks and paid. Hairdressers are one of those scary places where I lose my voice. I don't know why they intimidate me so much. I can face lines of riot cops but can't confront a hairdresser.
But don't get me wrong. My beautiful boy is still my beautiful boy. Hair means nothing and besides, will quite obviously grow back. And most importantly his hair is no longer irritating him.
It's just the attitude, the arrogance needed to impose a stereotype in contradiction to what I had asked for.
In classic form, at first I blamed myself - maybe I wasn't specific enough. But for fuck's ske, how short would she have gone if I said I'd wanted it short!
About Me
- emapple
- I am an anarchist, mother and writer currently living in Cornwall.
3 comments:
Hey, nice to see you out here. I was reluctant at first, but this blogging thing is OK!
Did those fuckers hurt your sister too? Action needed..
In my head I'd have given the hairdressers a verbal slap, punch, shamed them and reduced them to a quivering pulp with 'a Look'. Similar to you, hairdressers reduce me to a gibbering silence, where I feel 11 years old and in trouble again Why is that? As a consequence, Oz has only known my bathroom, nail scissor haircuts...The time for those is rapidly coming to an end, wonder if he'll be as rude to them if they cut it too short as he is to me? He has similar 'hair' issues, wants to grow it, screams at me if I brush and it's tangled.
Shall we send Jack and Oz in together, without us next time?
Hia hon, Thanx for your lovely comment.
I loved your account of Jacks haircut, it is a big milestone.
Being a political person, I had lots of political differences with people, especially in schools throughout all of my daughter's upbringing. It may be part and parcel of bringing them up, but it also helps mould critical strong beautiful young people.
I can understand where you're coming from.
Hello. I relate to that soooo much. Not only have I sat and watched/let a hairdresser slowly scalp me without so much as saying a word - even trying to keep looks to a minimum to avoid a confrontation and/or offence - Kumali's hair is starting to get the dreadlock look! Something will have to be done soon; or can I get away with convincing Toni dreads would the mutts nuts?
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