Life in the Big City

Tonight I had my hair cut by a Russian woman named Svetlana who did all kinds of astonishing things with it (razor cutting and then that thing they do where they pull it in apparently random directions and cut it all straight so that when you run your hands through it it miraculously makes you look like Jane Russell straight from the hayloft). She cut very fast to the beat of dated pop music on the radio and confided to me that she hasn't liked anything since they stopped making disco. She told me 8 million times that I was beautiful, and when she was ready to dry my hair she looked at me and said words that no hairdresser has ever said to me before: "No product, right?" Oh my god. I don't know if she stole my other hairdresser's notes or what (I practically had to threaten him with a gun to restrain him from spraying me with smelly Aveda aquanet), I could have kissed her.

She also did the impossible. She tamed my hair's tendency toward the librarian. I tuck my hair behind my ears a lot. It tends to make me look like I'm auditioning for Marian the Librarian in "The Music Man." Except that the casting director would sniff at me like Michael Kors judging Project Runway and say "There's librarian, and then there's dowdy." I know that the right hairdresser can sabotage my unfortunate habit, but it's almost impossible for most of them to believe that anyone would deliberately engage in compulsive behavior that makes them less attractive. There is almost no way I can tuck my hair behind my ears. First of all it's so fluffy that it just won't stay anywhere. And secondly these windblown-looking little tendrils escape and fall over my face. It's very exciting.

And then I came home and ordered a monstrous amount of Thai food, which came to my doorstep. There are at least four meals here, and it was $20. I want to cry, I'm so happy.