Hairdo or don't

Having my hair done is quite close to torture. I've never been able to stick to a hair dresser and envy those that have a nice, chatty, gossipy relationship with their hair dressers. One lady I know drives for over an hour to her hair dresser every 6 weeks whom she discovered while at university.
Frankly the whole thing makes me feel awkward. There's the awkward over friendly receptionists who joke that the bag you're carrying is a present for them even when you've never met them before. Then they mock you for not knowing how to react because you've never met them before. There's the awkward person washing your hair for you who may or may not be the same person cutting your hair. There's the slight fear that they might find something weird in my hair (irrational, I assure you). Then I always get annoyed that they never ask me what kind of shampoo I like/prefer/need. Then you have to pretend that you're comfortable when craning backwards over a sink is rarely so, not to mention pretending that you're ok with the temperature and the shampoo's not going in your eye.
Then they always towel dry your hair in a weird way that makes it a million times more tangled than it was to begin with. This leads to an annoying comment from the hairdresser about how tangled my hair is and I'm too awkward to disagree after having my head rubbed to oblivion and the consequent knots yanked with enthusiasm for what feels like ages.
Finally combed through, you have to face the fact that a complete stranger is going to be staring at your scalp for the best part of an hour. What makes this more awkward is the obligatory small talk that comes with having your hair done. Yes, you can read a magazine or a book but then they do that annoying readjusting-the-tilt-of-your-head thing. Can just about manage to drink coffee, my only solace during this time. The only choice you're left with is to stare into the mirror. For an hour with only the mind-numbing small talk for a distraction. My mirror time is usually limited to a quick glance here and there, brushing teeth, putting in ear rings, applying make up. Maximum 5 minutes. So to be effectively forced to stare at myself for an hour is not much fun. Moon face. Moon face, moon face, moon face.
After a bit of strained small talk to the tune of "Did you have a nice Christmas?" and "What did you get up to for New Year" the blow drying begins. I like this, just enough talk to make me feel less awkward (somewhat). After  a while my head is generally feeling rather tingled as the skin has been pulled off my skull for some time but I like having my hair blow dryed as it actually makes me feel really sleepy. Really very sleepy. So as well as being generally awkward, I then look like a weirdo or one of those small animals you see on youtube as I actually can't keep my eyes open.
Finally, the tousling, preening and application of product leads to a shiny bouncey new hairdo and suddenly I remember why I booked the appointment in the first place. Cue strutting akin to mid 90's shampoo ads. This time, I might have found a hair dresser I can stick with, even if this is because it took less than an hour.