Anxiety At The Hairdressers
Hairdressers sure do yap on don’t they?
Well some are talkative. But sometimes getting your haircut can be a very awkward exchange. Only simple questions such as “Um, tea, coffee?” are said. It’s awful. It’s bloody uncomfortable. I’d go as far to say that the misery between the client and hairdresser is palpable. Not even the absorbing power of a thousand Plenty kitchen rolls could even make the heavy air less muggy. It’s like doing the “Walk of Shame” that isolated walk where you can feel people’s eyes burn into your skin.
I don’t know what it is. I generally have one hairdresser who’s very nice and I can dribble utter nonsense about whatever out of my gob. I’m not shy in the slightest yet as soon as I have a different hairdresser I go all shy. I can't say what I want my hair to look like. I just say, “Um, [understandable mumbles – quite possibly in Russian] hair”. I’m not going to lie, I’ve had some very interesting hairdos as a direct result of this. Maybe this might answer why I didn’t cut my hair for three years when I was smaller. I looked like a girl mind. A sexy one though. Obviously.
There’s probably a word in German which describes this happening. They have one for everything; take “Schadenfreude” for instance. This literally means the enjoyment over someone’s misfortune. Honest; Google it. I reckon if society has to make a word for the meaning of selective anxiety when in a hairdressers, it should be in Welsh. I’m not being patriotic; I just think Wales should get some recognition. What’d you think of that?
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