No matter the age or body shape, hair stylists tend to have toned upper arms.  I’ve thought of becoming a stylist just for the side benefit of job-related muscle tone.  But then I remember the three months of Peace Corps training in Benin, where first Dr. G and then most of the other men and some of the women would come to me for haircuts.  They wagered, most likely wrongly, that my handiwork would be more tolerable than that of a local razor-wielding barber who had never seen straight hair before.  I’d usher the victim to an uncomfortable wooden chair and wrap him or her in a standard Peace-Corps-issue polyester sheet with big pink flowers on it.  It was not very breathable so he or she got to feel the sweat trickle down his body for an hour or more while I leaned and squinted, snipped and buzzed, and tried to even things up first in this spot and then in that.  Bits of other people’s hair drifted in the hot air and stuck to my arms.  I’d persevere, feeling guiltier and guiltier as the haircut progressed, and more determined than ever to achieve a decent look.  I don’t know why they kept asking for haircuts after they saw the results on their compatriots.  I personally did not let scissors touch my hair for the whole two years.

So whenever I’m subject to the ministrations of a competent stylist, I feel profoundly grateful. I’ve traveled, however briefly and un-airconditionedly, down the cutting and shaping road, and I know how hard it is to do a good job on the first try.  The other day some young sprite– I guess legally she had to be done with school, but she didn’t look it– listened and tousled and considered, and diligently went to work with scissors and razor cutters, hewing great spews of hair off of my head and onto the floor. Now my hair looks just as long as before, only more ‘not-yet-totally-out-of-it early thirties’ and less ‘yes-I-trim-my-own-bangs early teens’.  It also weighs about a pound less.  When I turn my head to look at something, I turn it a little too fast by accident.  I’m not used to being so lightheaded.  Now that’s a haircut!

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