Random Thoughts from the Chair

Nine months between haircuts is too much. 

But with this whole Covid thing, I wasn't in a hurry to get my locks chopped. Everyone has a breaking point, I suppose. And by last Saturday, I'd reached mine. It was either get a haircut or shave my head.

So, off I went to my "hair artisan" to get the job done.

Since my last visit, the salon I frequented had closed. The owners bailed, but the hairdressers got together and opened a new place. Fortunately, my stylist was one of the participants in the new venture.

And thus it was that I found myself sitting in a salon chair, fully masked, waiting for my hair color to magically transform to a more youthful hue. 

Probably, I should have brought a book to occupy my time. I did check Facebook a few times, but honestly, it's been too exhausting lately. Scrolling and scrolling in search of my friends between all the ads and "suggested for me" posts is getting old.

So I opted instead for quiet contemplation. I was facing a large mirror that reflected the street. Traffic zoomed by, and I wondered where they were all going in such a hurry. That particular observation ran its course pretty quickly.

Closing my eyes, I listened to the buzz of conversation around me. I learned what my fellow salon mates were up to, their plans for the upcoming holiday season and all about their work woes.

Checking my watch, I saw that 15 minutes had elapsed. Halfway to the time before my hair guru would reappear.

Then I made eye contact with myself in the mirror. These days, I'm farsighted, so having my glasses off didn't hinder my view. My mask covered my face from below my eyes to below my chin. 

That's when it occurred to me. Given that my grey hair was adequately quashed and the mask took care of my neck wattle, my actual age was no longer discernible. 

Imagine that. Folks who didn't know me might think I was 50. Or even 40. 

Cool beans!

This belief was reinforced a few days later at Target when I purchased my Stella Artois. The cashier, a 30-something guy, was apologetic when he asked to see my ID to purchase the alcoholic beverage. He had no idea how old I was. 

Frankly, I was delighted.

So I guess there's some reason to be glad I'm wearing a face covering. 

But I'll still be ecstatic when we've eradicated the beast and masks are no longer necessary.