Barbershop

Every three to five weeks, I must get a haircut. I absolutely cannot stand my hair being long as Asian hair gets pretty oily when it gets long and I feel disgusting. I get my haircut done at a small barbershop in Chinatown off Bellaire where two very nice Vietnamese sisters cut my hair. I usually get my haircut from Co Kim, who is the taller of the sisters and also the older one. She is very boring to talk to but at least she gets the job done, and it's quick. She always asks me if my mom overfed me as a child because I am a little bigger than most Vietnamese people are.

Most of my trips to Plaza Salon are pretty uneventful, but today, there was a little, chubby Vietnamese boy who was there with his mom. Most little, chubby Vietnamese boys have huge potty mouths and are very offensive with their comments. As soon as I heard his high-pitched, schoolboy like voice, I knew he was going to cause some trouble. Today, this little boy decided to verbally harass Co Kim. As he was getting his haircut, he decided to jolt his body and Kim's razor took a large blob of hair off the back of his head. After this, a huge bald spot was left on his head. He let out a horrific screech that pierced my ears and yelled, "Ba nay dieu dien oa!" In English, that translates to, "This hag is a b____!" I stopped mid-text and looked up in shock but I became extremely satisfied. This boy reminded me of myself as a child. I always cursed at homeless people and when my family owned a bar downtown, I would go out to drunk patrons and curse at them in Vietnamese because my aunt told me to.

That little boy's comment was unpleasant to the other people in the barbershop, but I was secretly reminiscing on how I used to be.