“I don’t know why everyone talks about your hair,” Marina’s new assistant told me. “It isn’t really that thick.” I nodded, fascinated by the salon’s backlog of Japanese magazines. “Sure. Lots of hairs are thicker.” She pulled it taut. “Like, all my cousins have thicker hair than this,”

“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. “It isn’t really that shiny, is it?” She asked, frowning behind her glasses. I shrugged. “Maybe, um, not?”

“No it isn’t shiny. And it isn’t thick. Or long. Like everyone in this salon was all ‘Oh look at Lola’s hair,’ and I was all ‘You think that’s good? You haven’t seen much hair.’ ”

I wish I could say that I said something to her, that I didn’t just stare with widened eyes for a second, shocked, thinking I am not misinterpreting this, am I? I am pretty sure that I am not misinterpreting this and that there are a limited number of interpretations and I think I’m getting the point. But all I did was look down at the magazine, while my mind turned itself on its tail, and everyone I told the story to scolded me and told me what I should have said, should have done. Didn’t do.


4 thoughts on “hair

  1. It was not worth it, Lola. Some people live in just their own tiny, little world and what they do or say is all that matters to them. I have gone from salon to salon, hoping to find a good stylist who does not get all her learning from People magazine, does not share her failures in relationships and who she has met on what dating site. Again, good writing, Lola.

  2. At least we can appreciate new-salon-assistant’s candor despite its lack of tact and etiquette, huh? 😛
    I think it wise Lola you chose your battle. In my world and perhaps yours, comments like that must be first earned to be heard, much less considered.

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