Saturday, October 20, 2012

hair apparent

One thing I've learned about living in Our Nation's Capital is that where ever you go you are certain to meet interesting people who keep you on your toes.

Last night, I took the metro to meet a friend to see a movie.  As I was exiting the station, a thin young woman wearing a hijab said something to me, but due to her accent, I couldn't understand what she was saying.  I assumed it was something about the weather or the traffic and I didn't want to embarrass myself telling her I didn't understand, so I just smiled and nodded, as one does in these situations.

She smiled.  "You have very nice hair," she repeated.

"Oh!" I said, taken aback.  This had not been what I was expecting.  "Thank you!"  My hair right now is very long.  It's what I call "mermaid length" or to about the middle of my back.  One of the guys at work told me he thinks it's "striking" but I think it probably looks more like this, though not so red these days.

"Yes," she continued. "Very pretty.  May I touch it?"

I was unprepared for this question.  Believe it or not, this is the first time a stranger has asked if they could touch my hair.  And as I never thought this would happen to me in real life, I didn't decide before hand what I would do, as they tell you in young women you should do.  ("Decide now to never ever let a stranger touch your hair!")  So before I knew it I said yes.  (I'm bad at saying no anyway, plus I'm a people pleaser.)

"It is very soft!" she exclaimed.

Again I thanked her and was secretly gratified because I actually had tried to do my hair in such a way that it would be soft.  So I was glad that I could get an external source verifying that my hard work had paid off.

"Yes," she continued, "very nice hair!  You should sell it.  We would buy your hair."

And now the conversation had taken a completely unexpected turn.  Who was the "we"?  Was this woman some kind of hair scout for a wig shop?  If I wanted to sell my hair could I just say yes then and there she would bring out a pair of clippers and give me $100 or whatever the going rate for hair is these days?  Suffice it to say, I was rather taken aback and I just mumbled some kind of thanks and we parted ways.

But it is comforting to know that if I'm ever in a tight spot for money, I can sell my hair, à la Jo March, if only I can happen to run into that women again on the yellow line.


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