Hair-raising gender difference
Venus is Fallon Hudson
Break-ups are really hard.
I had some absolutely devastating news last week - my hairdresser for the past four years moved away.
I couldn't believe it. There wasn't any fit throwing or uncontrollable tears - but my hair hurt.
I said to myself: "Who is going to remove the Vegemite strip along my scalp now?"
It happened so fast, I didn't even know she was leaving.
I guess it had been almost two months since I last saw her.
The relationshp between a woman and her hairdresser is a personal one; one that each time you visit, the bond grows stronger and stronger.
It might sound superficial, but when it comes to your hair, you need someone you can trust.
I know women who will only visit a particular hairdresser, and some have been going to the same hairdresser for more than 20 yaers.
Women spend a fortune on their locks, becuase having great hair is important to our self-esteem.
I have had many dozy haircuts and colours.
Looking back on particular hair crimes in my life, I have to say I have trust issues with hairdressers.
So now I am looking to start a new relationship, with a hairdresser, who can get brassy tones out of my hair and make me look fabulous again.
Mars is Zane Jackson
I'm the kind of bloke who shudders when I see a barber or hairdresser's price board charging more than $20 for a haircut.
Am I a tight, stingy, miser? Maybe. It's probably more that the whole experience is a bit weird when you think about it.
You're being preened by someone, who with sharp objects, sculpts your hair into something society will find attractive and presentable.
Okay, so that's not always the case. I've seen barbers let guys walk away with mirth-inducing mullets and witnessed a lady walk out of a salon with a perm that belonged in an '80s Bon Jovi film clip.
These are people we trust to pretty us up. Perhaps I'm the only one who finds this a bit awkward, but I know most people have been stuck in the uncomfortable situation where the person with the scissors is intent on small talk.
I think sometimes they know we're a captive audience – we're seated, with half of our hair lopped off so we can't do a runner, and they have blades. And they feel the need to fill in the time with conversation.
Barbers are OK, when they stick to sport and silence, but they sometimes catch the taxi driver syndrome – thinking you're keen to hear their right-wing rants.
But until we all master the art of the self-hair cut, I guess our options are limited.
Venus and Mars is a weekly humour column.