Beauty School Drop Out
Q. What´s orange, crispy and snaps quicker than a croc?
A. My hair!!
9 months of extreme sun and snow abuse have done irreversible damage to it, it´s so brittle that one brush with my ponytail could scratch you to pieces, it has become a lethal weapon which could be used against spitting old ladies.
But I was meandering around the streets of Arequipa when my nostrils detected a potent cocktail of perming lotion and peroxide. I sniffed my way towards the toxic aroma to find the source a couple of blocks down, ¨Peluqueria Maria¨(Maria Hairdressing Salon).
I walked thru the nicotine coloured glass doors, and barely had enough time to inspect discoloured posters of 80s dos when Maria herself approached me.
Now, I tower over most peruvian women, but Maria could beat me to a pulp in a street fight. She is tall, heavy set, her long brown hair frames a larger than average face with prominent features, and her hands are made even larger by tacky false acrylic nails.
She indicates for me to take a seat on the bottle green velvet couch with a king size wave, and as she turns I notice that the zip on her tight tan trousers is busted, but Maria doesn´t seem to care and she lowers herself onto the sofa with the feminine elegance of a ballerina.
She turns her body towards me, crosses her legs and sexily rests one arm on the back of the sofa, and then...AHA! Out comes the unmistakeably masculine voice. It´s confirmed, shecould beat me up in a streetfight, because Maria has balls!!
As she´s selling me a deep conditioner and a cut for 6 pounds I look around the salon which seems to be stuck in a time wharp. An elderly lady with about a thousand rollers on her head, is watching Christina Aguileras´¨Dirty¨ video on the TV set with a sour look in her face (she looks like an alien, the old lady that is).
I´m in a trance (must be the fumes), before I know it I´ve signed my rights away by plonking myself at a basin that´s at least a foot too low for me, the pain in my neck is indicative of what´s to come.
As predicted Maria doesn´t even glance at the picture of the style I have chosen, she just snips away humming in a low growly voice reminiscent of Marge Sympson with a pair of scissors meant for crafts. Before I can work out what she has done she´s whipped my hair in a french pleat for free, how sweet....NO! How DUMB am I?!
Once I´ve been in the open hair for a while and the spell of the hair products has worn off, I feel brave enough to examine her creation.
The verdict, well my hair is softer but I now have a shocking haircut and Chris could have done better.
The blessing is, at least I didn´t ask for a perm! Roll on Argentina.
A. My hair!!
9 months of extreme sun and snow abuse have done irreversible damage to it, it´s so brittle that one brush with my ponytail could scratch you to pieces, it has become a lethal weapon which could be used against spitting old ladies.
But I was meandering around the streets of Arequipa when my nostrils detected a potent cocktail of perming lotion and peroxide. I sniffed my way towards the toxic aroma to find the source a couple of blocks down, ¨Peluqueria Maria¨(Maria Hairdressing Salon).
I walked thru the nicotine coloured glass doors, and barely had enough time to inspect discoloured posters of 80s dos when Maria herself approached me.
Now, I tower over most peruvian women, but Maria could beat me to a pulp in a street fight. She is tall, heavy set, her long brown hair frames a larger than average face with prominent features, and her hands are made even larger by tacky false acrylic nails.
She indicates for me to take a seat on the bottle green velvet couch with a king size wave, and as she turns I notice that the zip on her tight tan trousers is busted, but Maria doesn´t seem to care and she lowers herself onto the sofa with the feminine elegance of a ballerina.
She turns her body towards me, crosses her legs and sexily rests one arm on the back of the sofa, and then...AHA! Out comes the unmistakeably masculine voice. It´s confirmed, shecould beat me up in a streetfight, because Maria has balls!!
As she´s selling me a deep conditioner and a cut for 6 pounds I look around the salon which seems to be stuck in a time wharp. An elderly lady with about a thousand rollers on her head, is watching Christina Aguileras´¨Dirty¨ video on the TV set with a sour look in her face (she looks like an alien, the old lady that is).
I´m in a trance (must be the fumes), before I know it I´ve signed my rights away by plonking myself at a basin that´s at least a foot too low for me, the pain in my neck is indicative of what´s to come.
As predicted Maria doesn´t even glance at the picture of the style I have chosen, she just snips away humming in a low growly voice reminiscent of Marge Sympson with a pair of scissors meant for crafts. Before I can work out what she has done she´s whipped my hair in a french pleat for free, how sweet....NO! How DUMB am I?!
Once I´ve been in the open hair for a while and the spell of the hair products has worn off, I feel brave enough to examine her creation.
The verdict, well my hair is softer but I now have a shocking haircut and Chris could have done better.
The blessing is, at least I didn´t ask for a perm! Roll on Argentina.
posted by Chris at 3:15 PM
4 Comments:
well at least you didn't let her dye it blonde!!
evidence?
Pictures. Now.
No Way Jose!! Forget it, I´ll have my hair up in all the photos from now on, just wish I had a photo of Maria to show you.
Scarecrow Sam
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