One of my new supervisors has awesome hair.
Like, shampoo-commercial hair. And I can tell that she’s just naturally blessed with it because it’s just…good. Like she comes into work and it’s just down, or pulled into a ponytail – not painstakingly clipped back at exacting angles and tamed by precise spritzes of sort-of-nice-but-sort-of-acrid hair product. I’m certain she just washes it, combs it, and lets it dry.
I’ve already said too much; you think me some sort of hair-obsessed crazy person who spends measurable amounts of time gazing at this woman’s head. I swear to you: I do not. It’s like how some women notice other women’s shoes, or handbags, or wedding bands… I just notice hair.
But this is kind of unfortunate, because hair is not something that can often be complimented offhandedly, like someone’s cute heels or colorful purse. And double-unfortunate is that she’s kind of like my boss.
Me: Jane,* you have such pretty hair.
Jane: Oh, haha. Thanks
Me: Like, it’s just so…nice.
Me: Oh, haha. That sounded so weird. Like [creepy voice] “oh, I really like your hair.” Haha. I just meant, I wanted to compliment you on it.
Me: Well, I mean. I didn’t know how to say that without sounding all creepy. I guess it could be worse. I could have come up to you and been all like [Slingblade voice] “Yer hair sure do smell purty.” Because that would be weeeeeeird!
Jane looks around to see if anyone else is hearing this
Me: Oh, haha. I mean, like, I’m sorry. I just wanted to… You just… It just…looks so…soft…Like, I want to touch it…
Jane backs away slowly and we only interact if absolutely necessary and never make eye contact again.
Me: Hmmm. I do not think that went well.
*Of course her name’s not Jane. Did you really need the asterisk? Sigh.