Thursday, April 21, 2011

Box Cuts and Brazilians.

I am a new woman!  I spent five hours having Sexy Sexy Hairdresser pulling and scraping and stabbing away at my head.  The only problem was, he used hair-related tools to stab away at my face area and I could have quite preferred other stabbing-tools being used.  But what's a girl to do?

I love Sexy Sexy Hairdresser.  Almost with an ache in my groin, but not quite.

Sexy Sexy Hairdresser:  What are we doing with your hair today, Pant?

The Pant:  Well, there's two corrections there.  Number one:  you will be doing the hair.  I will be perving over you and enjoying the attention that you'll have to bestow on me because I am a paying customer.  And number two:  it's already four o'clock so I think it would be more accurate to have used the word 'evening' rather than 'today'.

Sexy Sexy Hairdresser was applying a top deck look to a lady sitting opposite me.  I didn't want to be the one to tell her that top-deck went out with the advent of coconut and pistachio, because, really, who am I in her life?  Besides which, I was in Pietermaritzburg (this is the only problem I have with Sexy Sexy Hairdresser) and Pietermaritzburg truly is the capital of in-breeding.  I was astounded by the number of orange-hued people I saw as I stealthily crept through its dirty streets.

Sexy Sexy Hairdresser:  Why don't we do a Brazilian?

What I didn't say was, "Oh don't you worry, my pet.  I swung by the beautician's on the way here in the hopes that you might ask me."

What I did say was:

The Pant:  There are a lot of people around, but, okay.  If that's what you want pal, who am I to argue?

I left feeling like an altogether fabulous human being a mere six (four, five, six - who's counting after two?) hours later.  Okay, sure, I'd missed my post work afternoon snack - and anyone who knows The Pant knows that you don't mess with her post work snack, lest annorexia sets in.  I was feeling so thin by the time I left the salon, that the bones in my arms, also called elbows, were sticking out.  Now that's thin.

Anyway, it was nothing short of sheer entertainment because I got to see him cutting this number.  The man arrived with a fro so enormous that I developed an instant anti-white complex towards myself.  And he then left looking like this:

Happy Easter everyone.  The Daughter and I are very very EGGScited that we are finding standing up a challenge.


  1. Happy Easter to you and the Daughter, Pant ... Love and God bless ... White Bear

  2. Happy Easter White Bear,

    The Daughter and I love you too much. Seriously.