Shower gella

It was seven in the evening and I would usually take a shower to change my mood. This time I decided to try something new: go to a cheap hairdresser's and have fun. Coiffeur Nancy for Ladies, the sign read. My brother once asked me why I go to those salons around our house and I was never able to tell him that the real reason was to sit and watch that style of Egyptian women talk and act. I usually say I am tired and do not want to drive in traffic all the way to my coiffeur. Well .. he is definitely right. Although he has never been inside one of them, he knew that at that sort of salons, you usually hear and sometimes see things you do not normally hear or see in your everyday life. Anyway.. I went to "OK, my heart" hairdresser's. That's how the owner addresses me. "What do you need today ya 'alby?", my heart. This, and other forms such as beauty, moon, honey, sugar, and sweetie, are the equivalent of miss or mademoiselle I usually hear elsewhere. So after being greeted by the owner, I walked into the female only section. I drew the curtain to see a strange creature attending to one of the poor customers who wanted to have her eyebrows trimmed. But the pain of unplucking was not the problem. Part of the problem was the hairdresser herself. I don't usually comment on people's appearance, but hers was really provoking.

She was tanned with hair dyed hazel brown with gold highlights, cut short and straightened. She was wearing tight jeans and a T-shirt that showed all details of her body and defined it into blocks unevenly distributed around her upper part. She was standing bare feet in the middle of dusty hair strands and curls they never sweep. Now you can picture how dirty her dark red nail polish looked on her toes.

The other and main part of the problem seemed more serious .. to me. As she was doing her job she was talking to the girl between her hands and laughing with her trying to 'win a customer'. In the middle of this, whenever she laughed she would put both her hands around the customer's neck. I thought to myself .. "Hmm! I'll be serious from the start and she would not dare touch me like that". She kept repeating this and with the loudest laugh she gave, she threw herself over the customer's chest. At this point, I jumped off my seat and started to leave. "Where are you going, beauty?" she asked. "The beauty is going to go run some errands and maybe come back later." I replied.

I left the salon with one regret of not having a hidden camera somewhere on me.

The second salon I went to made me regret not having a voice recorder. A camera would not have worked well there. You are first met and lastly bid farewell by a burning smell and intense smoke. You see no one but could only hear voices of all music notes talking at the same time in the four by six meter shop. There was one fan in the middle and it looked as dizzy as everyone else, which strengthens your belief that a gas bomb has just been thrown in.

I walked in carefully trying not to stumble into anything or anyone and finally saw a place to sit down and wait for my turn. I heard a voice asking me "What do you need 'ya asal'?", honey.

I sat at the far end of the room. I was sure that whoever walked in could not see me sitting there because I did not see them. Five minutes later I started to choke on the smell and was about to leave after advising them to open a whole in the wall rather that buy the air condition they were talking about. Suddenly, a lady walked in and I instantly recognized her voice. She lives in apartment 13 on number 29. I live in apartment 12, same building. Her children are my brother's age, married with children.

She happened to be a regular customer and everyone knew her. She seated herself by the door and started talking and everyone laughed non stop throwing comments back at her to keep her jokes going.

- I'd like to change my hair blond and have blue eyes.
Do you want blue lenzez? We don't have any. Plus didn't you have it dyed black two weeks ago?
- Some sisters told me that religion says black dye is forbidden.
To be honest, it's all wrong and change in the way God created you. So it's all forbidden.
- But doesn't religion ask us to take care of our husbands? I wanna spoil the guy.
Yes, that's because you don't know how to spoil him any other way.
- You know nothing, girl. He doesn't leave my arms.
Because he's stuck.
- No, because he can't resist me. He doesn't even leave home. He sits there to look at me.
Really? Good for him.
- And I don't let him go out that often. He looks like .. what's his name that movie star? .. Oh, Hussein Fahmy?
So your husband has straight blond, with blue eyes, and an Italian mother.
- No, his mother passed away so I can't lie about her. Do you want shower gella? I have very good brands.
My husband says it's a waste of money.
- Of course it's not. If you get him used to doing this, he'll never let you buy anything you like. And shower gella is very good and smells beautiful. My children once thought it was mango juice and drank it. Anyway, I have to get going or the man feels lonely.
Stay with us, woman. Give the poor guy a break from you.
- Well, you'd better take care of your own man and leave mine alone. It's not because I told you he was Hussein Fahmy you start roaming around him.
Shut up. My husband is THE man. Keep yours to yourself.

Everyone in the shop was laughing out loud at everything she said. I do not know if this was because they liked her, thought she was ridiculous, or knew that her husband had afro hair and a belly bigger than three watermelons put together.