The Cattery

The Cattery

The Haircut

7 April 2004
Filed under Life, Text

Because tonight is Sophie's Big Night – the launch of her book – I thought that I should attempt to make myself a bit presentable. I've purchased a skirt (those of you who know me In Person might find this hard to believe), been to the gym (abs of steel, I tells ya), and subjected myself to one of life's greatest tortures: The Haircut.

For some, the humble haircut is a means of pleasurable reinvention, the most delightful form of pampering. Sometimes, in advance of a haircut, I can almost convince myself that I'm looking forward to it. "What a treat!" I say, out loud. I imagine myself sitting down, flicking through a magazine – "Like that one, darling, but with more jjoosh" –  sipping peppermint tea and running through my busy, glamourous, exciting day with Paula. A glorious shampoo-and-scalp-massage follows, and then the earth-shattering haircut that...

But once I'm in that chair, my power of speech leaves me. I mumble "Oh, whatever, Paula – just something that doesn't need much maintenance." I remove my glasses and offer myself up to her award-winning-stylist mercy. Over the hour that I'm there, I stare at my very blurred reflection, thinking "I'm so pale. I'm so pasty. Look at those bags." I sip bitter, over-brewed tea. Paula insults my previous haircut – so wispy! So straggly! – and waffles on about nothing much. "Did your girlfriend write the book on the computer?" she asks, infuriatingly. "We just got a new computer. It's got a touch-screen. And XP."

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