"the little snip"

that was one of the more endearing nicknames my mom called me. if i wasn't called little miss "queenie", then i was "the little snip".
well, this name and its memories all comes to my mind because of a recent demeaning haircutting experience i had.
my hair grooming is not high science. i went to the cheapie place down the street called "the haircutters loft" that boasts of haircuts at about $18.00 a head.
i can't see spending much more for my pin-sized head of hair. they operate on a "come on in and we will cut anyone's hair" basis.
so that's what i did last friday before the swim team Christmas party. i only wanted about 2" off cut in the wedge cut i had before. the haircutter, a demolition ball shaped woman with a skunk colored stripe down the front of her hair and an east coaster mafia accent, ordered me to sit in the spinning chair in front of the mirror. once there, she questioned me again about the shape i wanted my hair. we both studied my head in the mirror as i explained the obvious. she pulled at my hair with cigarette-smelling fingers and screwed up her mouth in a hmmmm, position. she just wasn't seeing it.
finally she said, "so, you just want a couple of inches off in this shape it's in? sortof a layered look in the back and longer in the front?"

" yes", i said suddenly thinking i must be missing a grander point and vaguely regretting an economy cut.
"OK" she said and tugged crepe paper around my neck followed by a tighly fastened plastic cape. she then spun me around to indicate i should follow her over to the neck stretching, torture chamber shaped sink.
stupily, i put my neck in the u-shape and then adjusted the chair - bad idea,my body bolted forward but my head stayed in the sink. ouch.

she began the warm shower, testing it first to make sure it wan't too hot. it wasn't too hot, it was freezing - but, no matter, i thought, it will soon warm up.
i began to relax as she bubbled up my hair - there is something soothing about the sound of plastic-y clinks made by long curling acrylic nails on the sink's edge as she scrubbed and squeezed suds from my hair. that sound gives me goose bumps every time - heaven knows why. once my hair was rinsed, she lacquered my head with vanilla flavored creme, rinsed again and off we set to the cutting chair.

and so on we went to get the cut done. she seemed efficient and i could tell by the way she was sizing up cut ends of my hair next to uncut ends of my hair to then snip, that she was very likely to give me a good cut. and she did. all and all it took about 20 minutes.

afterwards, she said she wanted to blow dry it to make sure it looked OK....she muttered she wasn't sure.

i thought it looked good.

at the end she aid, "well, thats about the best i can do."
i thought it a strange comment - but i responded that i thought it looked better than i had expected!!!
we both nodded at one another in the mirror with subdued satisfaction.
"good job" i said again -partly to uplift her severe expression.
she nodded.

finally she said, "yeah, i know that cut pretty well, i have had lots of experience doing that wedge cut and it is a fun cut. i volunteer a lot to cut the hair of the homeless women and this is the cut those ladies like the best." she was walking toward the cash register as she blew this bit of high fashion awareness my way.
hmmmm. i suddenly felt like the little snip again.
i don't know why, but upon hearing that, i decided to not wear the fancy outfit i planned to wear to the swim team xmas party that night. instead i decided to wear an old red sweatshirt of mine that says "Be naughty, save Santa a trip". it matched my haircut.

i'm just thankful i can have my home and this haircut too.