I have a natural distrust for Short Hairdressers – I mean really, how can they see what they are doing.

This is similar to my distrust of Tall Shoe salesman and skinny bakers.

However, after being hairdresserless for the last few months, and having had the worst haircut of my life last time I decided to get a haircut on a Sunday (damn Rodney Wayne was the only place open and the managed to under perform and overcharge even worse than usual) I decided I should get organised and get a cut at a respectable looking place on a weekday – like normal people.

Anyway, I picked out a rather stylish looking place and headed in.

You can imagine my surprise after walking in to find the campest hairdresser I have ever seen giving two Ponsonby ‘yummy mummies’ a cut and colour each. Things were looking down…

I had the choice to run, or to risk it… the need to stop looking like Adam after his trip to England was to great – I decided to risk it.

Luckily, a delightful girl named Rebecca walked in from her break – which I was relieved about, until I stood up! She was Mums Height!

At this point my Distrust for short Hairdressers came directly in competition with another natural instinct I have – ‘Don’t argue with short women’. Naturally the 2nd instinct won as ignoring this rule could be life threatening.

In the end I was pleasantly surprised – the haircut is actually pretty good. I think I might even go back, although I think I’ll take a foot stool with me next time… or perhaps this also violates the ‘short women’ rule???