I am bad at change.
“Haha what, you moved to Germany from Texas.”
I know, but I mean changes such as different glasses, updated YouTube layouts or a new phone. It’s too foreign and feels weird on my face.
But nothing beats the fear and dread of a haircut. My hair, the stringy sad mess that it is, is demanding a new style.
But I am a wuss. Just…the biggest wuss. I see styles that I like and could imagine on myself, but they never turn out that way. The hairdresser cuts more than I asked and my hair has an unnatural amount of body. Seriously, who can maintain that post-haircut hairdryer bounce? You know, when they do the thing with the round brush? It’s magic.
Not only do I have to accept that my hair is atrocious, but I have to find a hair salon in Germany. In German. With Germans. I can barely get American hairdressers to listen to me, now I have to do it auf Deutsch?!