Live from Japan!

When we first arrived in Japan, late last summer, we had an immediate and extreme bursts of firsts. Our first time in Japan, first trip to the hospital, first kaiten sushi, first public bath, first time struggling to get things done in this strange land. The list could go on and on.

Now, with over ten months under our belt, the firsts are becoming more spread apart and less jarring. At the same time, however, the firsts are generally becoming more difficult. They are things that we have put off, for good reason. They are things that are more difficult to accomplish when we can’t communicate effectively. And yet, they are things that cannot wait another 14 months until we return to the States. They must get done.

Recently, I had to brave two particular firsts that I was avoiding like the plague. The first, and most nerve-racking, was going to a ladies clinic for a gynecological check-up. This is something that I don’t particularly enjoy doing back home, much less here in Japan. As it turns out, the appointment went fairly well, I survived, and everything that needed to be done got done in a swift, efficient and cheap way, but it was still noteworthy (the difference between Japan and the U.S. in this regard would be interesting to discuss, and I may do so at another time if it would not offend/scare away the male readers).

Second, and perhaps a bit more frightening to me, was getting a haircut. One would think that the gynecological check-up would have been more scary, but I didn’t think it was. While I am not particularly concerned about my hair, it is one of my most noticeable features and I was really, desperately afraid that it would be ruined by my complete inability to communicate effectively.

So, finally, after much thought and deliberation I decided to take the plunge. I made an appointment with a woman in Ogaki who came highly recommended by several friends. She is a Japanese woman that lived in London for about 11 years, has good English, and a lot of experience cutting western hair. She seemed perfect.

When I got to my appointment I was confident that it would go well. After all, I didn’t want anything particularly tricky. I just wanted to get a trim, fix the shape a little bit, and make it look a little less ragged. Before long my hairdresser got to work, she was kind and thorough and made excellent small talk. After about an hour and a half of cutting, washing, more cutting, blow drying, and adding product she declared that it was finished.

I looked at myself in the mirror and my lower lip started to quiver a little bit. At the back of my head she had crafted a perfect mullet. The real shock here is that she had done it on purpose and she had even flipped it out when she was blow drying it. I was horrified, I was stunned, and I had no idea what to do.

As I was sitting there my mind was racing, maybe it could be ok (no way), maybe I could ask Aaron to cut the mullet off as soon as I got home (a definite possibility)…. My mind was racing through all the possibilities when she paused and said, “What do you think?”

Everything I have learned in Japan about being polite and indirect flew right out the window and I blurted, “I don’t like it. Can you please cut it off?”

She looked a bit surprised, “But it’s cute,” she said.

And then, after my simple reply, she got to work. “I don’t think that I do cute.”

For the next thirty minutes she went about her business doing more cutting and more styling. Ultimately I was left with a medium length bob. This hair style suits me well and is one that I have had for many years. It isn’t what I wanted (it is much shorter than I would have liked) but it looks good and I am fairly happy.

I am glad that I spoke up and ultimately got a cut that I am happy with, but I am still disturbed because I cannot get the image of me and my mullet out of my head! Scary image indeed!