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Cut Me

January 28, 2010

Cut me (365/194), originally uploaded by JenniPenni.

My hairgod has gone MIA.

Yes, my hairgod. The woman who has been doing amazing things to my hair since I stumbled upon her two summers ago. She sports crazy, long nails, painted with shades of neon. Her hair color changes every time I see her (last time was green). She talks incessantly with a thick carribean accent and shoves me jovially (and forcefully) at the height of her amusing story-tellings. Her amusement amuses me, and even though I never quite understand what she’s saying, I understand the person behind it. My regular nods and smiles are good enough for her. Sometimes, one of her jokes will actually get through to both of us and my eyes widen in the absurity of it all, and we laugh, bodaciously, loudly, heads bobbing, shoulder shaking, and then suddenly she will wave her hand and take a snip at my hair, and my heart lodges in my throat for just a second, a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

So, that’s my hairgod. She’s irreplaceable, and she’s missing.

Well, not missing…a number of things could have happened. She could’ve left the country on a whim. She could’ve moved without telling me. She could be sick. She could have turned off her phone or worse, can’t afford to pay it anymore. She stopped working in a salon last year and I started getting haircuts at her cramped, bachelor apartment. I would wash my hair before going, because it’s not feasible to wash it there. I don’t mind though I do miss her amazing head massages. The room is filled with used furnitures and the TV is always on, tuned to one of the daytime talk shows. She liked Oprah. She was always upbeat, and I never knew if it was a cover for something deeper. I know that she loves cutting hair, and she especially loves cutting asian hair. And she is kind. She needed money, but it was never the overarching purpose. Once I was in a hurry to go to a formal event, and she meticulously made me wait until every last strand was perfectly curled and coiffed. Then she walked me to the front door with an umbrella in case it was raining. We never talked about it, but I knew she was struggling. I try not to think about the last scenario.

Now, my hair is overgrown and I am desperate for a cut. She’s not picking up the phone, and I haven’t been able to concentrate at work. I keep wondering why. I keep playing with my hair. I could go to another salon but, the thing is, what if she calls me after? She can use the money, and somehow it would feel like a betrayal.

I am this close to picking up a pair of scissors and doing it myself.

Her name is Jossett. And I never knew how much I miss her until now.

9 Comments leave one →
  1. January 28, 2010 5:28 PM

    And there is a story there somewhere.

    One good possibility: She was supporting family members, trouble has happened, and she has had to return home. Does she know how to find you?

    Grace: She has my number, but there is no voicemail and it’s just this constant busy tone now so I don’t even know if she’ll see that I’ve called.

    • January 28, 2010 6:55 PM

      And there is a story there somewhere.

      I’d say those few paragraphs feel like a story in and of themselves.
      For some reason, this is one of my favorite entries of yours (apart from the whole missing person thing). Here’s hoping everything’s alright and you’ll hear from her soon.

  2. January 29, 2010 12:19 PM

    I hope she is OK

    Don’t Be a Plum

  3. January 30, 2010 11:33 PM

    Great entry, bad circumstances. Funny, I was just thinking that I need a haircut soon, myself.

  4. January 31, 2010 4:11 PM

    Maybe she’s just run off on vacation with a secret lover and will have wonderful stories to tell you when she comes back!

  5. KathyB permalink
    February 2, 2010 8:22 PM

    I hope she is okay too. I went back up to my old hair stylist twice after moving ninety miles away. I was able to combine a haircut with trips for a wedding and a funeral. I had gone to her for a long time, moved from one salon to another with her. Miss her. No language barriers and we survived the horrible out of town crash that took her mother way too young and left her father in bad shape for a long time. Whenever my mother visited me for a week, she would get her hair done with Pam as part of the visit. I remember having to talk Pam into cutting my hair short. Once she believed me she had fun with it. I would tell her that I wanted all the work in the cut because I have no hair skills.

    It took me about six more months to make up my mind and pick a new person here. She is young and does a good job. I don’t have a connection with her though. Maybe in time. My good friend in Pittsburgh crosses everything that her former student and very good friend will visit before she has to get someone else to cut her hair. Nobody cuts it like Scott. She has always had a difficult relationship with her hair, but since it grew back from chemo a few years ago — whole different creature.

    You might have to guiltily go get it cut in the interim, but I also pray that your hair goddess will return.

    Grace: we’re funny about our hair, aren’t we? I think as women we are especially emotional about it, and a haircut can be symbolic of so much.

  6. Grace permalink*
    February 2, 2010 9:37 PM

    Update! She is ok. I called a former salon where she worked and they saw her last Thursday handing in a resume. They said she looked well. They wanted to hire her actually, and can’t get in touch with her either. Something must be wrong with her phone. I’m gonna try to leave a note at her building to track her down, but at least she is ok, and that’s the main thing that matters. Thanks for your thoughts.


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