Today I finally gave in and got a haircut. Sitting in the barber's chair while the stylist snipped away was easily the most terrifying experience since I've been here. I learned that I am just as incapable of describing the type of haircut I want in Spanish as I am in English, which left me anxious I would walk out with any of the number of atrocious hairstyles that are inexplicably popular in Buenos Aires. Seriously though. Mullets, rat tails, rat tails that start at the top of the head and bowl cuts are all evidently in style. There is a dude in one of my classes with three dreadlocks in the back with the rest of his hair normal.
This time, I avoided my typical blunder of continually repeatedly asking the barber "a little shorter, please," until my hair is way to freaking short. I don't know why I do that. Usually it's because it's been such a long time since my previous haircut I have no ability to comprehend depth and length, and maybe even time and space. Resisting was difficult, especially because one moment had my confidence and self-worth soar to unprecedented levels. Mid-haircut, I was called upon to translate between a barber and a customer who did not speak Spanish, briefly making me The Most Important Man in the Barbershop. I walked out a completely neutral-headed man. Just my style. All in all, a haircut you could set your watch to.
Meanwhile, the correlation between having a two-studded eyebrow ring and a completely indecipherable porteño accent is strong as ever.
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