The only real reward you get for facing your fear of small talk with hairdressers because you’re afraid of asking inadvertently personal and inappropriate questions (when does “so where do you live?” turn weird? Why when I’m brave enough to timidly point out a nice shoe I think is pretty in the Vogue on my lap, the universe/my new hairdresser only rewards me with “mm”?) is orange hair and three extra unwanted inches cut off?
LESSON LEARNED, UNIVERSE.
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