The Cleveland Chronicles, Part 1: The Epic Saga of My Hair

Tonight marks the end of my fourth day in Cleveland, and the end of a very long week. I believe that my honeymoon phase is almost over - the gawking-tourist routine is gone, replaced by a cautious pensiveness that comes from somebody who has just realized that I have only three weeks to spend in such an amazing place.

(Yes, I know what you're thinking, dear Mainland readers, and I wouldn't blame you for thinking that I'd be crazy to sacrifice three weeks of a gorgeous Hawaiian summer for a place of inconsistent "springtime" weather. You have to understand, though: all this Midwestern lakeside splendor is as exotic to me as our tropical beaches are to you, so bear with me.)

Anyway, since this is Domesticity, I figured I should share a few words (and JPEGs) about one thing that has changed about me thanks to this trip... and it all began with me arriving in Cleveland with THIS hair:

To be fair: It's not ugly. (The return of my fuzzy upper lip, maybe, but not my overall look.) It's just that my hair is flat as heck - look at how the layers are plastered over my head, and the ends have that weird tendency to make me look like Steve Perry. I won't even get started on the fact that it's dull and the last time I got it cut was at the Neighborhood Chain. That's why Scribe and I planned on going to her neighborhood salon so we can have our girly spa day.

But then... this happened. I'm not even going to repeat the story here, but suffice it to say that I've already reviewed a fellow brand-mate affiliate of this salon on this blog - I don't want to paint everyone with a broad brush just because of one incompetent employee who made sure her workplace got none of my business. I do hope, however, that if the people in charge of the the salon's mothership (read: global HQ) gets to read this, they should just take this complaint for what it is and deal with it in the best possible manner, as befitting of the company's fine reputation.

[/rant over]

Anyway. Long story short, Scribe found out that the barbershop where her husband got his regular grooming also did women's haircuts for less of the price of the other place. (Her quote: "Of all the salons here in Cleveland, why didn't I think of the place where all the cool musicians get their hair done?") Thanks to the fabulous staff and stylists at Fast Eddy's, who are always up for working with just about anyone - from goth kids to proper grandmas - I finally got my flat Asian hair to cooperate in a swingy, sexy layered cut that brought the best out of my natural color and texture.

Behold:

No need for false modesty here. I really did look smokin' hot that night. Thanks, Fast Eddy's!