Make Your Own Fun: Offending Korean Sensibilities

HA. My hair is short again.

Not that it was exactly long before...


My poor hairdresser didn't know what to do with me. I kept telling him, "Shorter, shorter!" He had to cut my hair three times because each time I would hold up my fingers and make a face like, "I told you this long, and I mean this long!"

He spoke okay English, but Eun-mi translated a bit too. At one point when I was trying to convince him that I really did mean the length I told him, she said that he had told her that he didn't want to cut it that short because I would look like a boy. I laughed and said, "You know, I think the ship has sort of sailed on that one." Seriously, an extra half-inch of hair does not equal an extra half-inch of femininity. I have boy-hair. You can't change that with scissors.

When he finally cut it down to the length I wanted, he was visibly nervous. "This is the first time I've cut a woman's hair this short," he said, and, "No! Now you look like a skinhead!"

I just grinned and said, "This is perfect, thanks!"

Just one problem. When I get my hair cut with someone who knows what she's doing (like Jenna at the Dosha salon in Portland), she cuts it wet and lops off big chunks. That leaves most of the trimmings in manageable locks on the ground. This guy cut it dry, even blow-drying it after shampooing it, and he never cut off more than a quarter-inch at a time.  That leaves the trimmings in tiny specks on my shirt and scalp. I spent a half-hour rubbing my head over the sink last night, making it snow brown, and I'm sure I'll be shedding for a few more days now.

Mom, Stellar, I know you were trying to get me to grow it out, but you're going to have to admit the futility of your efforts. To get my hair down to my shoulders, it takes a solid year of constant reinforcement and nagging. To get it back up to a half-inch of spikes, all it takes is for me to feel spontaneous one evening.

I'll just have to make up for it by wearing girly clothes.