In the past year, I have rediscovered the sensual pleasures of having my hair done. I used to cut it myself but the gymnastics I've had to do to cut the back properly were becoming increasingly difficult. Despite the dancing, I'm just not as flexible as I used to be.

I have a love-hate relationship with going to a hair salon. I love someone concentrating on me and, at the same time, I can be embarrassed by the wrong type of concentration. At hoidy-toidy hair salons, I�ve often felt judged as not pretty enough or not elegant enough or not something else enough when the stylist�s attention turns to me. At a place like Best Cuts, I feel as though I am the sheep in a sheep-shearing contest.

I therefore was delighted when I found Sun. She slowly has eased me into a haircut that is flattering and easy to take care of. She chats, to the extent her English allows, but never veers into the too-personal. She managed to convince me that coloring the gray could be fun and that I could live with the political statement it made and I haven�t regretted it.

So, for the first time in years, I can go into a hair salon and relax (at least when Sun has not messed up her appointments but that�s a different story.) I can enjoy the massage that comes with someone washing your hair. I can feel important because someone is fussing so that a particular strand of hair is just the right length and goes just the right place.

It�s so decadent�and it�s so much fun.

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