Hair salons are a really vulnerable place. We let someone bathe us; we sit with a group of strangers while wearing bibs; someone waves a scissors over our head, and we we try not to move; then we’re subjected to those hideous fluorescent lights that make our skin - regardless of color - look like it belongs on a corpse. Every detail in my face comes out. When I return from the shampoo sink, I look like my brother.

Since I’m not a guy, this is depressing. Back at the shampoo sink, the voices in my head debated at all the wonderful things the hairdresser is going to say: How amazing you look! You’re in your twenty’s right? I know exactly the style that is going to drive men - and women - mad!

For some reason, I really struggle with my Spanish in the salon. Translation is not literal. And I tend to use terms in English like: itsy bitsy, flowing, drop-dead layers of glistening beauty like the T.V commercials, and shimmering; words I can’t find completely grasp in Spanish. So, I stick with cappas: layers; and dedos which is: Do I want to cut off one finger width or two? See the challenge in this?

I left the salon puffy and with a lot less hair. A lot less. Maybe one dedo more than I wanted. Even with my hair dry, I still looked like my brother. This was not the magazine look I was after. The good news is I’ll be able to make this hair cut last for quite a while. Another bonus: I’ll be able to get some use out of all those hats in my closet.