Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Will listen for almost free


Your hairstylist is really like a therapist who makes your hair look better and is way cheaper by the hour. She should have her own couch for you. Katrina takes the top part of my hair and whips it into a topknot. She takes the bottom part and starts analyzing it like it's a science project. Actually, for most of the time, my glasses are off, so it's really a trust-based relationship, really hoping I sent her the right picture.

"I want to look like Cameron Diaz, okay?"

She politely nods, knowing not even she is that magical.

It takes a long time for beauty. Not a lunch hour, not a quick pop in the shop. An entire two and a half hours is needed to look great.

We talk about her drama and my lifelong aspirations to have ten different lives. We talk about boys and money and kids (hers).

After the hair is dyed and blow dried and shines to its fullest, she turns the chair around, hands me a mirror, and smiles. She knows she's come as close to Cameron as ever possible.

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