Hairs salons are a comical sight to say the least. Being wrapped in a hideous black nylon cape is enough to make me chuckle. And as if that isn’t amusing enough, the mandatory large clips that could miraculously transform anyone hair from a sleek Cleopatra to a frenzied Medusa head can make me winced even more. To add icing to the cake, my hairdresser for the day was a young chap. And for each time I glanced at my reflection on the mirror, I winced, cringed and flinched. But I managed to convince myself saying that I didn’t look as humorous as last time. At least those large clips that he pinned on my hair were all of the same shade and design. Previously, my head was full of multicoloured humongous clips, enough to make me look as if candy canes were growing on my hair. Oh heck I'm jabbering. My point is, hair salons aren't a place I enjoy going to.
