but now I am not so sure. I sauntered into the hair salon across the street feeling like my long unkempt locks made me look like an aging western singer who hadn't had a hit in a very long time, and came out feeling more like.....
I do love rock and roll, but I can't say the same for this haircut. Perryangelo's mom strikes again. This is how the conversation (in french) went, "I like it long, the ends are damaged, and I just need a trim." The next thing I know, she is twisting the hair on the top of my head, and gnawing away at the twists with a pair of dull scissors, her lips pursed with concentration. "This is a very modern cut," she explains. "I went to Milan to learn this technique. Milan is a very beautiful city."
I had that sinking feeling in my stomach that this isn't exactly what I had asked for. I quickly decided, just to go with it and see where it took me. What can you do? Once that first chunk was gone out of the center of my head, there wasn't much turning back anyway.
Hey, it's only hair and I am lucky to have hair, right? I can't wait to see it tomorrow sans the product. This is part of the Italian experience.
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