#massagemyscalp

I walk towards the sink where my hair guy is going to give me a wash. There's a masked face sitting in the chair opposite. The white mask is some concotion of avocado, moisturiser, coconut oil and sim-sim oil. The owner of the face is doing a shampoo. The salon lady is rubbing the soap through his hair (read scalp). His eyes are shut tight.
I fix my head in the wet station but then decide to take a double peek at this metro-sexual being. Long face, long body. I really need to see the looks. Then she starts cleaning the face mask off and my hair guy is ready.
The water is warm, he rub-rubs through my hair which is quite dirty. I know the drill. Two washes, lots of scrubbing. Pat dry. Walk back to barber's seat. Comb with metal teeth. Hairdryer. His eyes are more on the TV watching National Geographic or whatever. Today it is something with animals and everybody is giving their animated opinions. Hair clipper. Clip. Clip. I don't want you to chop off so much. Like you did last time. I was not pleased.
Then the metro-face-scrub victim gets up. Bannange! Quick guess puts his age in the 50s. And his skin has started folding. Like- it is at the edge of the wrinkle-stage. Receding hairline. Dyed black. When he is settled comfortably, she starts with the neck massage. His eyes are closed in enjoyment that he does not notice the many eyes staring at him. He leans forward as she rubs more. Then she starts twisting his neck this way and that way.
I can't stare much. But I wonder how much he is paying to have this done. The small pleasure of the day. I don't even see him walking out. The only way I know he is done is when the lady who has been working on him, sits takes the chair next to mine and starts retouching her make-up.