His name is Jimmy Bob. He cuts hair, and he gave me the best haircut I have ever had yesterday. In South Tampa is a strip mall, there is a classic sign above a door that says: HAIR. Inside, is a chic salon, but nothing over the top. You would never guess from looking at the outside of this building that you could come out feeling so good because you just got the best haircut of your life (that is if Jimmy Bob cuts your hair).
Jimmy Bob has been cutting my sister-in-law, Karen's hair for eleven years. I often hate my hair, which is the plight of so many, I'm sure, but lately, I've been loathing my hair. In fact, last Friday, I cut my own bangs--short. I watched a video online after googling--how to cut your own bangs. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't that great.
So, yesterday, I walked under the sign that read HAIR, and met Jimmy Bob. I sat in the chair and told Jimmy Bob that he could basically do whatever he wanted. He said it was like crack for a hairdresser. He proceeded to put on a tool belt of scissors. Now, being a carpenter's daughter, how could I not appreciate that?
I have never seen a hair stylist so excited about cutting my hair. It was like he was an artist. As each curl fell on the blue concrete floor, I just knew it was going to be great! I just wish Jimmy Bob lived in Prague!