Hairy Situation

I was at Target today, after my biology exam, to track down my shampoo. The drugstore no longer stocks it. Assholes. Anyway. I’ve been hunting replacement reeds and oil for my reed diffuser at work. I have a pretty glass bottle already- I don’ t need another, but I couldn’t find replacement reeds anywhere.

As I’m looking carefully for reeds, this guy who couldn’t have been too much younger than my Dad came into the aisle with a tea light sconce. He asked me what size candles they took, if he could put something bigger in it, and are these tea light candles? I helped him out with the sconce, told him he was asking for trouble if he put anything bigger than a tea light in, blah, helpful, blah.

Then he commented on my hair, telling me what a beautiful head of hair I have. I was a little confused? But who am I to turn down a compliment? He went on and on, and on, and even asked if he could touch it. Now, to my credit, I did let him put his hand in my ponytail, because he used words like “natural highlights” and other hair terms that told me he was probably a hairdresser, or gay. Either of which would make him being a little crazy about my hair perfectly normal.

Until he smelled it. He buried his nose in my ponytail and raved about how nice my hair smelled. At this point, I knew something was up. I haven’t washed my hair in two days (yeah, I’m a lazy ass, what’ s it to you. you ever stay up late cramming for a final and steal an extra 30 minutes sleep instead of opting for a shampoo and rinse? that’s what i thought.), so I knew he was full of shit right then. Does he have some sort of hair fetish? Did he just not want to say “man, your hair smells like ass”? At this point, though, it’s no longer acceptable for him to pull on my ponytail.

I turned around (forcing him to let go of my hair), and we talked a minute more about my hair. He said it was silky, and told him that it’s hard to keep that way, because it’s so wiry.

“In fact, my husband is a fly fisherman, and he likes to tease me and say he could use it for tippet in a pinch.” (note to MH: I forget- is it tippet or leaders?)

He smiled, told me to have a great day, and disappeared around the corner.


And yes, MH, I do realize now that there really isn’t any acceptable reason for a stranger to play with my ponytail at Target. Lesson learned.


10 Responses

  1. Well, at least he asked! I mean, he coulda been like the freak that came into the salon one day for a cut and when I bent over to get a comb outta the drawer he sniffed my hair. Ew!

  2. I love how immediate his reaction was once you brought up your husband, haha.

  3. Um, do you work at Target? If not– were you at least wearing a red shirt?

  4. Wow, the people you meet at big box stores. You’re a brave soul for not turning (pony)tail and running the instant he buried his face in your hair like I would have done. And yet while I know that I say that, I’m just as likely to have been struck dumb by the very act and would have stood there as he sniffed me.

  5. lesson learned, indeed. What a creep.

  6. yikes! there sure are a lot of weirdos out there, huh?

  7. Dude + smelling your hair = creepy motherfucker. Did he have a mustache? That’s usually a dead giveaway. I mean, I forget to shave for 3-4 days and have some creepy stubble and get rid of it… but I don’t sniff girls’ hair. WTF. Can I come with you next time and knock him out? I mean, I haven’t met your husband, but I care about you enough to kick this dude’s ass just for your husband’s sake, let alone for mankind. We are not creepy by nature. We are not sluts. This dude needs to get his ass kicked, and I’d gladly do it. Damn the distance.

    • You have seen me in my skinniness. I would kick his ass out of rage and anger. I don’t care if he’s a black belt in 4 different kinds of martial arts. I have a gun, and I can aim VERY well.

  8. That is just creepy – can’t believe you indulged him as far as you did! LOL

    Hair Fetish = EWWWWWW

    And Matt – my husband has a mustache and he’s not a creepy hair sniffer!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: