My hair's been really unruly lately, with just one tuft sticking up, looking so defiant and infuriating. Actually, I've always liked rebellious things, and I don't mind unruly hair, but it can't be this arrogant! Look at you, you're even more stylish than me now, how am I supposed to stand it? So I decided to get a haircut.
Walking into the barbershop, one glance was a stroke of luck—all handsome guys, a real feast for the eyes! But then, a second glance, and disaster struck. These handsome guys weren't brothers, they were younger brothers! Judging by their looks, they were probably around twenty. Even though I'm only in my early twenties, compared to them, I'm practically an old cow! Look how young they are, how fresh-faced they are! Looking at them even a couple more times would be an insult to my little brother, so I decided not to look. I won't be a pervert; I'll be a cultured person. My mom always says: "A person should be cultured; do not look at what is improper, do not speak what is improper." I'm here for a haircut, not to admire young women. Stay calm, stay calm.
After washing my hair and sitting in the chair, while the hairdresser was waiting, I stole a glance at the girl getting her hair cut next to me. Listen up, the main character is here! Wow! Long hair cut short, impressive! I had long hair for about ten years, but in college, I impulsively rushed into a hair salon and chopped it all off. I've had this short, strong hair ever since. So much so that I can't take my eyes off girls with flowing long hair, especially when they walk towards me, the breeze gently blowing through their flowing locks, watching them dance gracefully in the wind—it's pure bliss! If I could touch it, it would be even better. No wonder most guys like their girlfriends with long hair; it's a great perk! Next to the girl getting her hair cut was a short-haired girl, probably her friend. She's a supporting character, so I won't say more; let's just call her the short-haired girl.
A little while later, my hairdresser arrived. Choosing a hairdresser is like choosing a prostitute at an entertainment venue. Some people like good looks, some like good service, and some like good skills. I'm an exception. I always like new things, so I never stick to one particular person—no, I don't even try to choose. I usually just let them decide. Whether the haircut is good or bad, I don't care. It's just hair; it grows back quickly, so what's the big deal? This time was no different.
The haircut started, and haircuts are actually quite boring. You can't move much while sitting there; only your eyes and ears can move freely.
Not long after, I heard the girl next to me say, "Next time I can bring my boyfriend to get his hair done. Do you have men's haircuts?" I don't know if she was too loud or we were too close (about a meter apart), but I heard her clearly. I even imagined the expression on her face when she said that. I couldn't help it; it was just so boring. I didn't hear what her hairdresser said; it seems the girl was too loud. Okay, getting a haircut is a bit boring, and chatting with the hairdresser would be a good way to pass the time, but I don't like that, so I just listened quietly.
After a while, I heard the hairdresser ask, "Where are you from?"
"Shanxi."
After a long pause, the hairdresser said, "Shanxi has coal mines." This was just a well-intentioned statement, I can vouch for that.
Then I heard the girl raise her voice: "What does Shanxi having coal mines have to do with me!" Her tone was absolutely forceful. I was wondering why she was so agitated. The hairdresser fell silent, probably taken aback by her tone.
Seeing the hairdresser's silence, the girl probably realized her tone was inappropriate and continued, "Actually, there are only a few rich people, they're all coal mine owners, I'm not a coal mine owner." Oh, I see. But they didn't even ask if she was rich, her reaction was way too extreme, I thought to myself.
The hairdresser still didn't speak, and the girl stopped too. Okay, some peace and quiet.
After a short rest, I heard the girl's voice again, "I called my mom today." Ugh, she had to tell her that? "I told my mom I wanted to get a haircut, and she said, 'Why do you need a haircut?'" Doesn't she have anyone else to confide in? Why tell a stranger about something as trivial as talking to her mom on the phone? "Then my mom said, 'Okay, whatever.'" That was it. But the hairdresser didn't seem to react much. I guess that's understandable; it's their family matter, what business is it of hers? This girl can't keep her mouth shut, I thought to myself.
A while later, I heard the girl's voice again, "I got engaged this Chinese New Year." What's that? Is she so happy she wants to share it with everyone? I wondered. Still, I didn't hear the hairdresser. I thought the girl finally realized she'd made a fool of herself and would shut up.
Sure enough, she kept quiet for a long time; it was quite a while before she spoke again.
"I don't have any money to pay yet. My wallet is with my classmate, but she went out. She was called out by a guy. I guess they went off to chat. You guys always like to play little tricks." Gossip, absolute gossip, I shouted in my heart. There's no need to tell the hairdresser about this. What business is it of yours whether they're chatting or not? What business is it of the hairdresser's? The hairdresser only cares about how you're going to pay. Okay, I'm gossiping too, I know, but I'm just gossiping to myself.
Finally, my hair was done. I stood up to pay, and I saw the short-haired girl who had just come in walk past. The hairdresser saw her and started chattering: "Were you chatting with someone? What's going on between you and that guy? Tell me!" I shuddered. Ugh! If I had a friend who was so clueless about social situations, I would never take her out to embarrass herself. It's one thing for her to embarrass herself, but to drag others down with her.
After paying, I quickly pulled my friend out, glancing at her short haircut as we left—not great.
Once outside the salon, I told her, "She's even more gossipy than you. She not only gossips about others, but also about herself; it's like she's stripped naked for everyone to see." I knew I'd been harsh; I felt bad about it. Speaking of which, my friend is a gossip herself.
She got angry: "Am I the same as her? I gossip about others, I'm a reporter!" Ugh! So reporters are people who gossip about others, I see.
On the way home, I thought: gossipy women are really annoying, especially those who gossip regardless of the situation. I need to learn from this! I'll never be that kind of woman again!
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