Day 230: No Poodling

A visit to the hairdressers.  As always, the slightly pointless exchange:-

Natalie: 'What are we doing today?'

Me: 'Same as always.  You know - cutting some stuff off.  I can't see.'

Natalie: 'OK.'

It's dry.  It'll do.

She's got the measure of me.  So much so that when she dries my hair, she doesn't use a brush.  She just dries it.  Like you'd dry a wet dog or a child.  It works for both us.  I don't like blow-drys - just look all wiggy and weird on me.  And it makes life easy for her.  Good. 

Took me years to realise that I could dictate how I would like my hair dried.  I remember one notable occasion when the initial consultation went like this:-

Hairdresser: 'What are we doing today?'

Me: 'Just dried, please.'

Hairdresser: 'No problem.  We'll just bump it up at the back, bring the detail forward - but nothing too vampish.'

I was too taken by surprise to do anything.  Except to sit, mute and helpless, and take a terrible poodling.   

No more.  We do it my way.  Less poodle; more hedge.