Genie in Japan

My Japanese Haircut Experience

The weather was getting warmer, my hair was getting longer, and I was getting too lazy to maintain a head full of long curly hair. So I hopped over to “Hair Space Bloom,” right in front of the train station near my apartment and greeted the stylists: “Hello. I’m sorry. I’m from America. I speak bad Japanese. Straight. Cut. Big. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu” with lots of hand gestures in between.

I knew it was going to be expensive, but actually the price wasn’t too bad and service was so, so, sooo delectably good. They handed me magazines, wrapped me in blankets, brought me tea, gave me a massage, and they were just all-around-feel-good people. Takayuki and Atsushi went with me for translation/moral support. Wow, those boys waited for me for three hours…what better friends can a girl have.

Anyways, I emerged three hours later, my head feeling so much cleaner and lighter. Takayuki is in shock–he insists that I look like a Japanese gangster, and that certainly the college freshmen I will be meeting in the weeks ahead will be too afraid to approach me. We’ll just have to wait and see.