Life's a bastard...but sometimes it lets up

The life and times of an ordinary Dublin girl. Follow her journey as she finds out working from home really ISN'T about watching Oprah all day and that perhaps men aren't really all bastards.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Clean hair....the pornstar way!

IS it only me, or does anyone else feel slightly uncomfortable when they get their hair washed in a salon and they do that mini-head-massage thing?

I don’t mean uncomfortable as in ‘ow, Jaysus you’re reefing the head off me and my neck is about to snap off’ I mean uncomfortable as in ‘that actually feels quite pleasurable, yet you’re a stranger, so should I be enjoying this?’

Allow me to explain. On Saturday I went to the hair dressers (a swanky one, in town) for a wash and blow dry, in preparation for the night ahead.

As my hair is feeling the effects of winter, and also cos I’m a lazy cow who can’t be bothered to do that whole hair in a hot towel conditioning thing, I asked them to put in a treatment to make it “lovely and shiny”.

The fabulous male hair-washer whisked me off to a basin and waved a dinky little bottle of conditioner in front of me saying he was going to put that in and it’d do the job.

(I later realised that the reason he only waved it in front of me and then spirited it away was so that I wouldn’t see the €12 price tag on it, but I digress.)

Anyway, so after scrubbing my hair squeaky clean twice and questioning me intently about my plans for the evening, he proceeded to whack in the (very expensive) treatment.

And that’s when things got uncomfortable.

Apart from the sloooowww, firrrrrrmmmm kneading of my skull, he accompanied it with a narrative, along the lines thus:

“Does that feel gooooood? This will really make your hair healthy…am I doing it too hard? Will I do that again? Does this feel ok for you?” in manner of a 70s porn film.

All he was short of was a few “uh huh, ooooh yeahhhhhhh’s” and it would have been complete.

I know it was wrong, I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I found myself responding in kind along the lines of “oh that’s soooooo good, harder, ohhhh the back of my neck”.

It was when I threw in a “shag me baby” that he stopped abruptly.

Needless to say, I think I’ll be avoiding that particular salon from now on, but on the upside my hair is at its swishy best and the shine would blind a small child.

Pic of Ron Jeremy courtesy of

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