I remember that right before I left for Asia, my US hairdresser asked me, "Who's going to do your hair in Asia?"
"Good question," I replied.
3 and a half years later, I still don't quite have that issue resolved.
I remember my first Asian haircut like it was yesterday. I approached the chair with fear and trembling. And, although I didn't cry afterwards, I definitely felt I'd gotten a little bit more integrated into the culture, since my hair looked more "native."
Last year, I got a haircut that looked as if Mamie Eisenhower herself had hacked away at my bangs.
And just last week, I proved once again that although I THOUGHT I was explaining myself quite clearly to the hairdresser, his interpretation of what I said was quite the opposite. Actually, I think the guy heard me clearly and did what he wanted to anyway. It's hard to describe what happened in that barber's chair, there are not words adequate enough. However, the words "hacksaw," "rat-tail," and "lawnmower" are the first things that pop into my head.
It was bad.
Thankfully, my friend Terri, who is familiar with cutting hair, took pity on me and tried to salvage what she could of my haircut. In the process, she had to cut off at least 3 inches to try and make it look presentable. At least I'm not ashamed to walk out the door anymore.
I can't wait to get to that hairdresser in America again in a few months! She'll probably just shake her head in horror.
I think that next time, I'll just take this picture and ask the local hairdresser to give me this cut!