Snip snip snip

You may realize that Wakayama snowing for once is not actually the point of posting this picture.

Okay, I cut off my blog post last time at Friday, the fourth of march since I hadn't told my parents yet, but I did, so here goes.

Friday, the fourth of March, I had plans. I had had plans for a long time. Friday was the last day of year end tests, and to party, my group was going for Sushi afterwards and then to a hair salon. Even Saori was planning to tag along. Now, neither of these places are ones you'd find me often, having an intense dislike of all things seafood and the longest hair in the prefecture.
Sushi in Japan is really something. I don't know what Sushi places in America are like, but if they're anything like Japanese ones, the general concept is so; Snaking through all the tables and parading around a whole acquarium of sliced up fish on little plates is a conveyor belt. All plates are 100 yen unless otherwise marked. When you see something you like, you just pluck that dish off the belt. I found it thrilling, equating the split decision making process you that car chase bit of action movies. DO I WANT THE EGG ONE? ANOTHER EGG ONE? ARRGGHH ITS HALWAY THROUGH OUR TABLE-DIVE FOR IT, MAI-CHAN!!! [NO!EMILY STOP EATING THE EGG ONES JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO PANSY TO EAT ANYTHING RAW!]
If there was something particular you wanted, a small touch screen suspended above the table let you pick through the menu and the cooks would slide it on the conveyor and it'd get to you eventually. There was this slot on the side of the table to put dirty dishes in - every 5 dishes, you got a chance to win a small childrens toy. Everyone was super surprised when we won on the first go- rare apparently.

Kan-chan and our sushi plate stacks > : )

After, we went to the hair salon. Now, this is usually not much of a group activity, as far as girls go. Remember how I said I had the longest hair in the prefecture? I'm not really even joking. Of course, laws of probability say that someone in the few hundred thousand people living here that there is someone with longer hair than me, but I've yet to see her, and my hair is frequently cited as being 'the longest they'd ever seen' by Japanese.

And it gets shorter when you braid it.
BASICALLY just to the top of my knee wow that's crazy
Not anymore.
Two ties, two clips, 50 centemeters. For the non metric, non mathematically inclined, that's about 1 and 2/3rds feet or about 20 inches. ALLISON M. IF YOU ARE READING THIS I USED THE RULER YOU LOANED ME TO MEASURE IT. It still has your name written on it and everything haha.
Let me reiterate for those who've known me for the past 11 years: Yes. I Cut My Hair.
And put it in terms for those who haven't, to express the importance of this; I CUT MY HAIR OH MY GOD I FINALLY DID IT I JUST SNIP SNIP CUT IT OFF OHHHH MMMYYY GOODDDD IIIII CUUUUTTTT MYYYYY HAIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRR ITSSS GONEEE well actually its in my desk drawer I haven't mailed it yet- is that weird??
Ok. To clarify, this is what we call HAJIMETE HAIRCUT. As in, virgin hair was de-locked. For the past 10 or so years of my life, a family friend has handled the trimming of my hair with the regular payments of pasta. So. I'd never had a legitimate haircut, and never been to a salon.

Ohhh baby. After trimming the initial 18 inches off [10 and 8 inches respectively, to be donated to Pantene's Beautiful Lock's charity for free wigs for cancer patients] we opened up a glossy magazine and tried to figure out the best hair style to go with- not made any easier by the fact all the models were exclusively Asian, let me tell you. We finally settled on something and I swear it took the stylist about an hour to trim down my freakishly thick hair into something resembling layers. Then, for kicks, she curled it and sent me on my way.
Me and the hairstylist that cut my hair

-deep breathing

Now, a week later, I think I'm finally used to the concept. Maybe I gave some people the impression I was vain narcissist in the process, because this past week whenever I pass a mirror I would just STARE- that's me? HOW ABOUT THAT.

STILL STARIN AT THAT MIRROR narcissist emily stoppit