My Legitimate Hair Cut

Most of the time I make a fairly good pretense of not being overly vain. I don't wear jewellery or make up, I don't have a vast wardrobe of pretty but unfunctional clothing, I don't spend hours poring over beauty magazines or jealously wishing I looked like [insert celebrity name here]. Most of the time, I don't even brush my hair. (Before you get the wrong idea about me, I DO take a shower and brush my teeth every day. Lack of vanity is one thing, a good thing. Lack of hygiene is another, very bad, thing.)

However, I'm vain enough to worry like the buggery about getting my hair cut in a foreign country where I'm not overly savvy with the language and there's a possibility of a hirstute massacre. But, looking at my list of places I'm going to visit in the next 6 months, it was going to have to be a hair cut in France or nowhere. And at least I speak a bit of French. I know how to say, "stop! stop!" and "what have you done to my hair??!!" I could only imagine with dread going through the same exercise in a country where I don't know the language at all.

Luckily, when I got my hair cut today, there was another girl in the salon who had something that approximated what I wanted, so I was let off the hook for having to express myself clearly, I could just point and say, like hers, only shorter. Woohoo!!