The Very Hairs On My Head

"... even the very hairs of your head are all numbered." (Matthew 10:30)

I graduated from barber shop to salon today.

It wasn't an easy decision to make. First, my barber shop is much cheaper. Second, my barber shop is in Rice Village so it always provides me with an excuse to run errands (read = "stop by The Gap"). Third, I prefer telling people I go to a barber shop than a salon (despite my public confession about spending a day at the spa).

But it was becoming apparent that my hair had outgrown the skills of the barber shop. Or I was just getting picky. (You decide.) Regardless, the multidimensional layers, briarpatch-like density, and rogue curls were well beyond what a 15-minute drive-by with a clipper could handle.

So a friend of mine gave me the name of the guy he goes to -- Eric. He's a Christian guy, has a 9 year-old son, attends classes at a local Bible college, and eventually wants to go into ministry. And he owns the salon. Great guy.

The best part of my visit was overhearing the conversation between the stylist at the station next to me and her elderly female customer. It was a glimpse into a whole other world -- a world where women get their hair set once a week and miraculously keep it like that until the following week. (Not sure if that's miraculous so much as it is gross.)

When the customer with her freshly set Dallas-style helmet-hair was ready to leave, she handed the stylist her check. As politely as she possibly could (seemingly so as not to offend this matriarch of somebody's family), the stylist asked the woman if she meant to use a pencil to write her check. "Did I really?" asked Miss Ellie, "Oh well, at least I know you. You won't change the amount, right?" She then asked the stylist for help getting her keys out of her purse. She had her nails done earlier (with orange polish since she was "sick of that %@&# red") and didn't want to risk messing them up excavating in her big ol' matriarch purse/trunk.

Anywho ... the hair is fine. I think I lost about 10 or 12 pounds as a result. At least that's what I'm telling myself to justify eating a double-pepperoni pizza at 9:30 pm tonight. I can't keep that up for long, though, because as His word tell us ...

"... the hair on his head began to grow again after it had been shaved." (Judges 16:22)