That doesn't mean I cannot get dolled up when the occasion calls for it, but neither of us really find dolled up attractive.
I like my rugged Pacific Northwestern husband. Was he mistaken for Jesus or Dave Grohl a lot? Yeah, but that never bothered me one bit. Give me flannel shirt, long hair and scruff. My husband prefers me to hold onto my I-just-rolled-outta-bed look. Messy hair & bare face.
For a long time now, my husband has been begging me to cut my hair short. I love my long, messy, curly hair. But ever since I was 19 years old, and I cut my hair short for the first and what I thought would be the last time, he has been fixated on it. He loved my hair short. Seeing as I will be turning 30 in a few months, I thought that maybe, just maybe, 10 years later, I could indulge him.
So I agreed to cut my hair whatever length he wanted.
And then he suggested I get my hair done at a real salon that a Canadian expat owns. It's a place where you have to make an appointment and where you definitely spend more than 20 minutes.
I scoffed at the idea.
In Taiwan, you can get a perfectly good haircut for 100 NTD, which is less than $3 USD. Also, no appointment is necessary. You walk in and 15-20 minutes later you walk out. They don't even wash your hair (which I like, because, thank you, I already washed my own hair today).
In the end, I refused to pay $50 USD for a haircut simply because the person cutting my hair would speak English. I mean, I only get my hair cut twice a year, once during summer break and once during winter break.
Does that tell you how much I care about my hair?
So instead of going to see the Canadian that all my expat friends flock to when they need a trim, I went to the hair salon next to my favorite Vietnamese restaurant. The place is run by three young people and their three dogs, one of which is blind but sat on my lap and let me pet it (the dog, obviously).
Via charades, because none of them spoke English beyond hi and thank you, I explained what I wanted and then let fate (and the man with blue hair wielding the scissors) decide the outcome. And I have to say: I loved it. The experience, that is. I am not a good chit chatter. I don't really want to chit chat with the person cutting my hair. Further, I don't really want to hear about how they can "fix up my grey hairs". Not all women want to dye their grey hair. Not all women think that something as natural as hair turning grey is a crisis.
So, in almost total silence except for movement of the dogs, the guy did exactly what I asked him to do: he cut my hair short.
Personally, I hate it.
But I knew I would.
My husband loves it, however, and that's what I was going for.
So in the end, it was a hugely successful trip to the 100 NTD Taiwanese hair salon.
And I am putting the remaining $47 budgeted for a haircut to better purposes, like my next scoot adventure!