Hair raising tales

... and I bit the bullet, packed my dictionary in my handbag, wrote down a list of (what I thought) were useful words and phrases, and walked into the hairdresser's salon.

The first sight of the stylist wasn't all that confidence inspiring. And it didn't help that my so-called useful phrases list turned out to be next to useless. Then the stylist handed me a few books and asked me to pick a style. Some of them looked quite nice... on Japanese women. Finally i gave up on the book and told him to just shorten it. I think that offended his professional ethics, and he asked me to wait a bit and disappeared. That was somewhat scary... was I getting my hair cut or not?? Then he came back with a glossy ad from a glossy magazine for one of the cosmetic giants. And pointed out to one of the models' styles. Alright. That looked comfortably simple, something which I could live with. If it didn't look good, at least it wouldn't look terrible.

The end result wasn't too bad. After lots of 'chotto skoshi' , 'o this or that kudasai' and plenty of 'onegaishimasu' I decided I could live with the look... It certainly doesn't make me look like the spokes-model for Estee Lauder, but at least I don't have the everyday-is-a-bad-hair-day look anymore.

Aditi, of course, thinks that I'm in disgrace for not combing my hair, which is why it's way shorter. I wonder if she'll still think that way once she's in her teens!