I got my hair cut yesterday. Six weeks had passed since the last cut and my head was showing it. It was time for a trim, a little boost. With Brent. And I am so smitten by him. Again.
I am smitten by my gay hair stylist. I love how he cuts my hair and gives me tips to manage my curls. (He told me that with my hair type, I should only be washing my hair every third day. Ew? On other days, just rinse and condition. We’ll see about that …) I like how when he dries my hair after washing, he make a conscious effort to dry the inside of my ears with the towel. (Creepy? Possibly.)
We also talked about his dad. The last (which was the first) time I saw Brent for a haircut, he told me he was jetting home to Arkansas that night to be with his family as his dad underwent heart surgery. All is well. Recovery is happening in wonderful ways.
While I’m smitten with him, I’m not smitten with the cost. He told me – as he helped me put on my coat – that he had his review last month and has moved to the next level of stylist, which means his price increases. Now, my next haircut with Brent in the big city will cost nearly as much as THREE (also awesome) haircuts at the Aveda salon in Montevideo, where I got my hair cut while on internship. eek.
there's no place like gnome. 
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