It was almost twelve years ago that I was walking down the street in Westwood when a Persian guy approached me and asked if he could cut my hair. I had a short pixie cut at the time (even though my friend's told me it looked "cute," I think it was my "don't notice me" phase...). It was getting shaggy and he had a slightly smarmy vibe that felt oddly comfortable, so I said yes.

Twelve years later, the smarmy energy hasn't let up a bit. Over the past decade he has asked me countless times about my sex life and it took that long for me to inform him I don't need to hear about his sexual forays. Which is not to say that he isn't compassionate and caring and a great listeners. My eyebrow lady works in his salon and the two of them know my life story as well, if not better, than my therapist. I feel like I've grown up there. They taught me how to grieve over boyfriends, eat Persian food, and deal with facial hair (not that I have any...). My eyebrow lady has been married for 50 years and from her I've gotten some modeling of a real long-term partnership. Like any relationship that has survived the trial of time and growth, they feel like family.

I guess next to therapists, hair dressers are a grounding center of most women's life and leaving one can be seriously traumatic. I know of a friend who tolerated an 80's style hair cut for years to avoid the pain of leaving her guy.

Ultimately, I do like my hair and eyebrows. I come out of there feeling fresh and brand new. But even if I didn't, it would be hard to try someone new. There is something weirdly intimate about hair, that makes the hair dresser/client relationship important in myterious ways...

Just for today, I love getting my hair and eyebrows done!