After postponing my visit to the hairdresser for several weeks, I finally made the trip last evening. Historically no hairdresser has understood what I want done, so of late I pick salons at random, the cheaper the better. A male with waxed arms, nail color and lipstick welcomes me.
A little dazzled by that classy touch I quickly scan the rate charts to make sure things were within my ball park. J and I wait my turn flipping through magazines trying to spot J's "most special favorite" (pink), "special favorite"(yellow) a slew of just "favorite" colors. This is usually how we spend the lobby-wait-time of our lives.
The gentleman with waxed arms is talking to a blonde who is doing almost an interpretational dance trying to explain the magic she wants him to work on her hair. He is leaning back with his arms crossed, a half smile on his face, making appropriate noises to indicate comprehension and agreement. If that is what takes to get the message across I know I will not be able to do it.
In the chair next to the blond is a guy getting a buzz. The hairdresser is petite woman lip synching and swaying to a Roberta Flack number playing the background as she snips, clips and razes. I get a sinking feeling as buzz tends dangerously close to bald. Blonde is faring quite okay but then I have no idea what her stated expectations were.
I know what will happen next and am willing to bolt out of the door. Buzz will be done sooner than Blonde and I will be on the hot seat with Roberta Flack karaoke. Almost on cue J starts to whine "Mommy my tummy hurts. I am very hungry. I want my dinner right now". I know that is a sign of absolute boredom but right now it is a means of escape for me.
I could sneak out saying the baby is hungry. Before I can act on my thoughts, Buzz is paying for his scalping and walking out. She announces my name and motions me over for my turn.
I sneak a look at Blonde, she is glowing from her soul communion with the hairdresser. J and my handbag are perched on a chair behind me. She watches me quizzically through the mirror. Karaoke is all done even before I know it. She holds up the mirror for me to admire her artwork. I commit the ultimate faux pas. I tell her to go at it again and fix the many problems I see. I even forget to smile.
She returns to my hair with gusto. Her scissors work like gardening shears through the bramble of my hair. J is looking rather concerned at this point. I assume the back view is much worse than the front. The woman is now crooning along with Flack savoring every minute of her vengeance. I look in the mirror when we get in the car and gasp in horror. J restates the obvious "Mommy, you look yucky"
I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...
Comments
i had to learnt that stuff the hard way, while forcing myself to change from an absentminded intellectual too mildmannered to bolt before being left holding the short straw to a wily streetsmart who knows how to avoid eye contact and become inconspicious on demand...:-)))
1996: scientists called to home to notice similarity betwixt self's new haircut and the cauliflower on table. sadly, they failed to explain color differences
1998: self' valiant "i am earning now" rebellion ended in a bang.or bangs actually. blinded temporarily for 3 months.
2001: justifiably paranoid mom accompanies darling dotter to wedding-stage. Self's cleverly fabricated hairpiece falls as am nodding vigorously at priest, caught expertly by aunt and stashed safely into handbag. wedding pictures ruined.
the pain of it all!
Fowwie Pepps...laughing at your dispense n all!!(pun very intended!) :-)) Reminds me of my own hair piece falling off while dashing off for a dance recital!!
and Oy...HC's fan club should include me as the 'Chief- commenter'!! (all due apologies to The Chief!!) :-)) But I am jobless anyway...:-))))
HC, I am so glad you are having craic here ;-)
Laters taters!!