Hair: the Great Girly Bastion

In an effort to make myself feel better than I have lately, and because I’ve been looking like shite, I got my hair cut today. It’s always a big event because I rarely get it done (I’ve found exactly one hairdresser who can cut my hair properly in my LIFE and I’m not going to let go of him, problem is he’s pretty expensive to keep hold of), and there’s always a big excitement buildup because I’m a bit sad like that.

As usual, Geoff was entertaining as he worked his magic. Usually we talk about things like how we imagine the world to be if there was a true separation of church and state, which sure beats conversations I’ve had with other hairdressers, which always seem to contain the inevitable question ‘So, [snaps gum] you gotta boyfrien’?’ I wish that was exaggeration, but it isn’t. I think it also had something to do with the fact that this was back in Gippsland, where it’s widely acknowledged that if you’re a young girl without a boyfriend you are a) a sad loser and b) a prime candidate for a friendly gang-raping by one of the local football teams. I know people just try to make conversation, but seriously? It’s a question I can’t help but have a problem with. I mean, I never asked a Moe scrubber hairdresser ‘So, how’s the herpes going?’ or ‘Have the paternity test results come through yet?’ Which is probably just as well; since it was Moe, I probably would have ended up with a pig’s head thrown through my window – that’s if they’d been able to find me in my isolated mountain hideaway (I do not kid when I say I grew up on top of a mountain, kilometres from anywhere. Fortunately trips into Moe were not that frequent. That said, the whole top-of-mountain thing sounds kind of cool and exotic until I point out that it was also in the midst of a whole shitload of potato paddocks. Unless you’re Irish, there’s nothing particularly exciting about potato paddocks.).

It got to the point where, during one of my rare haircuts, when asked the inevitable question I would start muttering darkly about the evils of the patriarchy rather than giving a direct response. Given that I was a scowly militant type at the time anyway, it proved quite effective. Although it’s possible that my slightly mean-spirited sense of humour went a bit too far the time I claimed to be an active member of SCUM.

Today’s haircut conversation revolved around cartoons, Commodore 64s, and the fact that Geoff really, really hates little children, the latter conversation only occurring as his employer’s children ran around the salon shrieking. I could see his point, although they were cute in a don’t-feed-them-after-midnight kind of way.

Most importantly, however, is my hair. Ahh, my hair. I walked out of the salon feeling all swish and sleek and lovely. Unfortunately, the wind picked up the second after I stepped out the door, so I got to keep my salonlicious feeling for even less time than usual (even styled by experts my hair is psychotic). Apart from that, things were okay until I got home. I studied in my room for a while and eventually went to the bathroom, where I made my discovery.

As I glanced sidelong at myself in the mirror, shaking the shorter, layered locks of hair at the front out of my eyes, I realised I looked like someone else.

Unfortunately, that someone else is Hilary bloody Duff. Sure, you have to imagine her as older, crankier, fatter, poorer, with glasses and no makeup, but the resemblance is definitely there, and it’s all the haircut’s fault.

Tomorrow I go cyan!

6 Responses to “Hair: the Great Girly Bastion”

  1. Craig Says:

    You lived outside a town named “Moe?” Where Curly and Larry just down the road? Blahahahahahaha! I’m sure you’ve never heard that one before. :\

  2. Aimee Says:

    No, I’ve NEVER heard that one before. 😉 It’s funny how whenever I’ve pointed out “it’s pronounced ‘Mo-ee'”, people get all embarrassed and shit. Weirdos! It’s like I’ve pointed out their bad French pronunciation or something. C’mon, people, it’s a white trash town!

  3. Dirk Thruster Says:

    I, too, grew up in the middle of the spud paddocks behind Moe (where on a quiet day you could hear the banjo’s calling). You seem to be recovering nicely.

  4. Aimee Says:

    Why thank you :) Yes, the banjos, and the heady sounds of cousins mating…

  5. Sam Says:

    Is that SCUM site for real? Wow. No wonder people hate bulldykes so much.

    Hilary Duff haircut? Don’t you know that that style is so yesterday? (Lame, I know, but “So Yesterday” is the only Hilary Duff “song” – and I use the term loosely – I can think of.)

  6. Aimee Says:

    The SCUM Manifesto was written by Valerie Solanis, the woman who shot Andy Warhol (so she can’t be all bad, right?). It’s still viewed pretty highly by separatists as far as I know, but I’m not sure anyone’s ever actually gone and formed a “society” as such. I actually find the Manifesto pretty interesting, but then I find some other products of hate speech interesting too, when they aren’t making me sick.