Haircut

So this week I had an exciting and terrifying experience. I decided last week that I was going to get my hair cut.. so I was looking around for places to get it done. There's this place on the walk to school called BEYONCE and they advertise $2 haircuts. I don't know that I've ever seen anyone in there, so I kept joking that I would go there to get my hair cut.

Long story short- I got impatient, and since I only wanted my hair trimmed- and you can't REALLY ruin a trim (once I let a 17 year old at SSP trim my hair because she was bored), I decided to head over to BEYONCE during lunch hour. Now, my Spanish is far FAR from perfect, but I get around okay. I can generally argue with taxi drivers and I can talk to my host mom, so I figured it would be no big deal to get my hair done. Right? Wrong. I swear, I had no idea what these women were saying to me, but at one point, one of them pointed to the other one and nodded. I nodded too. Apparently, I had then agreed to getting her haircut. Then she started to trim my hair, paused, and asked me a question. I nodded, and she said "Tres dolares." Then she washed my hair and started to cut it. It was pretty terrifying, but I had no choice but to just let them go with it. At one point the woman asked me how I wanted my hair brushed (? I don't know.. that's the best I can come up with) and I told her "No tengo mucho tiempo en las mananas." She promptly proceeded to cut me bangs (side bangs).... (but they're better than the time I let Kacey cut me bangs after she came home drunk from a party and told me she totally could do it.)

Anyway- I totally dig my $3 haircut-- that's it in the picture.... but that was one of those experiences where my hair's soaking wet and she's going to TOWN with the scissors, and all I can think is: "I wish I'd put a little more thought into this decision!"

(This was deep and inspiring, I know. If you're looking for something more intellectual to read, check out Jessica's blog- hers has Bolivian deities and elaborate metaphors.)