In the past the thought of a haircut would fill me with dread. I used to fear the hairdresser the way some people fear dentists. Put it down to bad childhood experiences I guess - the mere sound of snipping scissors would have me breaking out in a cold sweat.
"Chhhvat you vaaant?" she asked me in that cool-as accent. I was just going to get a trim, my usual boring safe option. But looking admiringly at her sleek hairdo I suddenly blurted, "Um could I have what you've got? Do you think that would suit me...?"