Went to the barber shop today. And I gave my trust to someone else to do the job… Growing and learning, growing and learning.
For over 15 year my hair is done by one and the same. Never trusted anyone else to cut my hair. Ramon talked me in to join him to his hairdresser. I had what you might call a barberfobia, not one of all the ones before, sorry mom, who had cut my hair, did a nice job. And not one of them understood my agony. You just can’t cut curly hair the same way you would cut straight hair, but they all did it anyway, which resulted in a few baddest of bad haircuts ever! I always cried when I left. Until I met Ben. His scissors went like soft butter on a slice of freshly baked bread. He was done before I knew it, and I looked exactly like Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were. I loved him from that moment on, and no one, and I mean NO one, could put their scissors even near my hair. If Ben was sick, on holiday, or just a day off, I would wait for him to get back, even if it meant waiting for another 4 weeks.
But in real life Ben got older, up to a point that he was talking about retirement. I was in shock. O my God! I never thought that could happen, nor did I think he could die. He was Ben, my barber-man. Something like a superhero, something that is just always there when you need him.
So I had to pull myself together, and let someone else from the barbershop cut my hair. The honour was bestowed to his son, and to my surprise, and relieve, he did a great job. So, even though Ben is still in the shop cutting hair, I am more than fine with the fact that he won’t always be there to cut mine. I let go, and have tried someone new. But I don’t know if I’m ready yet to let more people cut my hair. So for now, it’s Ben or his son. Don’t know what I will do when both are on holiday.
Growing and learning….