I came in to get a haircut. The stylist said, "You sure you want short? You not going to cry?" I looked at her, stunned. "Why would I cry?" "Sometimes the girls. They cry. I can do it but they cry."
I told her I'd had short hair before. She kept staring at me, as though I was going to have to convince her I actually wanted my hair cut. It didn't exactly engender confidence. I've had short hair before. I wasn't afraid of short hair. I was afraid of the hatchet job I was now anticipating. I left and made an appointment elsewhere.