Chapter 7 chapter Five

I didn't have an appointment so they told me I had to wait at least fifty minutes for my turn, but I didn't care.I have nowhere to go anyway, and it's warm and safe here.I sat in an easy chair near the door, flipping through the beautifully printed back issues of magazines.The woman named Penny who was going to cut my hair told me to choose a hairstyle I liked, so I went through pictures of movie stars and socialites with bright smiles, trying to imagine how my face would look with their hair .The thing is, I'm still who I am. It was just when night fell.People streamed by outside the window, all wrapped in coats and scarves, shivering in the cold wind.Cars and trucks roared past, splashing slush.The room is bright, quiet and silent, only the sound of scissors across the hairline, the sound of the broom brushing the ground and gathering the hair into piles, and occasional whispers of conversation.Already six customers have had their hair cut, all of them women.They sat upright in chairs, covered in black robes, or lay back against the sink, rubbing shampoo and conditioner on their scalps.I can smell coconut, apple, chamomile, etc.I close my eyes.I could sit here all day.

Have you decided yet? short hair.As I said that, I suddenly opened my eyes.She took me to a chair in front of a large mirror and sat down, then stood behind me, running her hands through my hair, tilting her head in thought. Are you sure? Yes.The real short hair is not just cutting off the bangs or thinning.You know, just cut the whole thing short.Short hair, but don't look too aggressive. Maybe a little wavy, tousled feeling.Maybe a little softer here? OK, sounds good.I'm also going to dye it a different color first. That would take an extra hour. It doesn't matter.What color do you think I should dye?

Your original hair color is beautiful. I want a change.I'm thinking about dyeing red.big red. red?She lifted my long pale hair and let it fall from her fingertips.Do you think dyeing red suits you?Should I go for a softer tone maybe a sepia, with some bold highlights? Would that look radically different from the original? Oh, of course. I never cut my hair really short.When I was a kid, I refused to cut my hair to death.I want to be like my friend Chen, who can sit on her blue-black hair.She often tied her hair in a braid with a velvet bow at the end.The long hair snaked down her back, thick and bright, and lively.I raised one hand to stroke the top of my head, taking one last look.

Well, I say.Do it before I change my mind again. I'll come back when it's done. Another woman came to dye my hair.First, she applied a thick, brown dye that smelt acridly of chemicals.I sit under a lamp and bake.Then she dabs a few lighter dyes on the flaky clumps and wraps the hair in foil.I looked like I was going to be wrapped up and put in the oven.I close my eyes again, so I can't see anything. Fingers run through my hairline and warm water runs over my scalp.At this time, I smell fruity, a humid tropical forest smell.A towel was wrapped around my head like a turban.Someone put a cup of coffee in front of me.It was snowing again outside the window.

I closed my eyes as Penny started cutting.I heard the click of scissors and a lock of hair slid down my cheek.The nape of my neck has a weird feeling of being exposed, as does my helix.Penny sprayed some more water on my head; she cut steadily and quietly, telling me only which way to sit; she leaned forward and blew the crumbs off.I opened my eyes and saw a small pale face with no makeup applied in front of me.My nose and mouth look too big and my neck is too thin.I close my eyes again and try to think about something else, for example, food.After the haircut I'm going to the deli I just saw on the way and buy a savory and sweet puff pastry, maybe cinnamon and pear, or a slice of carrot cake, or just an apple, big and green and With sour taste.

what do you think I forced myself to take a look.There was some grime under my eye sockets, and my lips were pale and dry.I raised one hand to touch the soft short hair on the top of my head.Very good, I said.great. Penny adjusts the angle of the mirror behind me.From behind, I look like a young boy. what do you thinkI said. She looked at me appreciatively.Very sharp.she says. Just what I want. A brush is brushed over my neck and face, mirrors are tilted left and right so I can see my new look from all angles, someone hands me my jacket and sends me out into the world, tiny snowflakes are gathering Flying and falling in the thicker night.I have a weird lightness in my head.I was repeatedly frightened by seeing myself in the shop window.I bought a giant chocolate chip cookie and ate it on the go.

For the past three years, I have been well dressed.I'm inseparable from work, I guess I'm used to it.The suit, skirt and top are matched with tulle stockings, and a pair of backups are placed in the bag in case they are snagged.These are tailor-made and well-cut clothes.At this time, I used the money borrowed from me by Sheila and some of my own money to buy a pair of baggy black trousers, some T-shirts, some pairs of leather cycling boots, and a black woolen hoodie Long-sleeved sweatshirt, a long striped scarf and a black wool hat, some warm gloves.I almost bought a leather coat, but I didn't have enough money left, and maybe it was just a matter of luck.But I had enough money to buy six panties, two bras, some thick socks, a toothbrush and toothpaste, some lipstick, mascara, deodorant and shampoo.

I stood in front of the store's large full-length mirror, turned slowly, and looked at myself.I lift my chin.I'm no longer the professional woman with the shiny bun and decent shoes.I looked scrawny, with protruding collarbones, almost menacing.The new black clothes made my face look paler than before, and the bruises on my cheeks had faded to yellow jaundice.My head is crowned with rage, the color of birch.I think I look a little bit like an owl, and also like a little girl of about sixteen.I smiled at my new look in the mirror and nodded. OK, I said out loud.Perfect.