More than a haircut


Last night Mr Knees and I decided a quick trip to our local shopping mecca was in order.

Pants needed to be tailored, hair needed to be cut and let’s face it, what else do married people do on a Friday night?!

So to the fashion capital (Chadstone) we went. It’s here you should note that nothing, literally nothing, makes me more excited than entering this building.

Now usually when Mr Knees gets a trim, I stay at home, it’s not something I generally need to hold his hand through. On this occasion however, I tagged along. Partly because I had nothing else to do and partly because had I have strayed I may have maxed out our credit card.

Mr Knees doesn’t have a regular hairdresser/barber so just goes where there’s no line and it’s less than $30. Last night I found a place which cuts men hair for “just $48”. FORTY EIGHT DOLLARS, I had to sit down.

Anywho, he rocked into a place with a sign out the front stating “men’s $20 cuts”, perfect.

Or was it?

I don’t know what it is but sometimes when people start talking to me, I don’t even think they realise how much they are about to let slip.

This woman, holding a razor to Mr Knees’ head, had obviously had a long day. But the conversation that followed left us all quite shocked.

It started as any salon convo usually does ‘how was your day?’. It was probably at this point we should have abandoned any further discussion.

The hairdresser launched into a D&M about life, her life. Her marriage break down, her kids, being overworked, her parents, money loans, you name it – she was hanging out that laundry at the speed of knots, leaving no stone unturned.

Five minutes in and we had discovered she was living in the same house as her ex (but they hadn’t slept together in at least five years), unable to leave for a range of reasons, but mainly because of her two children. It was here I found myself offering advice. Mr Knees on the other hand was looking panic-stricken and super uncomfortable, probably because she was tossing around razors and scissors while looking at me.

We were there for perhaps 15 minutes. I may not have known her name, but I knew everything else.

Upon leaving she apologised for her rant, but I told her not to be silly and wished her all the best, while also reiterating the need for her to remove herself from the situation, and we went on our merry way.

The minute we walked out Mr Knees was like ‘What the f*** just happened?’ I was like ‘I’m not sure, but are you happy with your hair?’.

He finds it crazy that people tell people (particularly me) the things they do. I think maybe I have face that says ‘tell me EVERYTHING, NOW, and don’t forget the juicy shit’.

So peeps, what personal secret have you let slip/or been slipped by someone you didn’t know from a bar of soap?


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