Which explains why I choose this particular place. Either that or I don't have to get all bundled up and actually go outside. Because it's been snowing again and it's cold as a witch's tit, as the saying goes.
Anyway, every time I go, the same stylist gets me--I think it's because she's Japanese, and bottom of the totem pole. The others don't want to cut the waygukin's hair, not because I'm grotesque so much as because they can't speak English.
Still, we've kind of figured out how to communicate--at least, I no longer have to look through the hairstyle picture book. I don't want a new hairstyle, I want the same one I've got now. Only shorter. Above the ears, blocked in the back, run thinning shears through the top. The haircut gets better each time.
So now I'm going to bundle up and go for a walk towards the river; hopefully, I'll find one of those rotisserie truck vendors and have a delicious 6 or 7,000 W whole chicken stuffed with rice and herbs for dinner.
1 comment:
If you'd like I can take a stab at translating your hair cut instructions into phonetic Japanese for you. (Assuming she really is Japanese and will understand you.)
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