That day of the month...

Cutting hair... is like going to the dentist. It always ends up in pain.

First u have to go to the $10 shop, put $10 in the machine, then take out the card. After that, u have to sit with 4 complete strangers that are all impatiently waiting for their turn to get some hair off their heads.

My normal experience is that there will somehow always be two aunties and one small boy cutting hair on any given day. While waiting for your turn, you will cross ur fingers and hope for dear life that the boy cuts slower than the aunties. Normally, the boy is someone that decided on a career in haircutting a few days ago, and will after a few days decide on a career change because he sucks at hair cutting. So, u get ur turn, and if u dun get the boy, then u know u wont suffer that much for the next week.

U sit down and wait while someone touches ur head and cuts off part of ur body. Yes, hair strands come from dead cells from ur body, and so, is a part of ur body. What happens normally is that I will end up either looking like a mushroom head, or a small boy, or a cross between a mushroom head and a small boy. Don't you even dare ask me what that looks like.

This time round, there was a surprise. I managed to avoid the small boy, but i got a malay aunty instead. No I am not racist, but frankly speaking, malay aunty in $10 shop is not a normal occurence. Normally, it will be chinese aunty with english accent. So, I got my hair cut... and finally emerge from the shop. This time, it's awfully normal. So normal, it isn't even worth mentioning. You notice i never even post a picture of a mushroom this time. Its like i've wasted half an hour of my life achieving something meaningless. The hair looks like... hair.