New Hair

I admit it - I have really bad hair. It is thin, but there's lots of it; it's somewhat curly, but not pretty Julia Roberts-type curls; and there's just no style to it. In an attempt to find some style, I tried a new stylist tonight. Her name will not be mentioned here. She talked a lot, A LOT! She was one of those people that talks and talks, asks questions but doesn't wait for the answer. In short, it drove me nuts! So, I explained my dilemma of having bad hair and not being able to do much when it comes to styling myself. I admitted to her that I like to spend no more than 10 minutes on my hair (based on her expression, I didn't have the heart to tell her that that time included washing, conditioning and styling it because she looked at me like I suddenly came from Roswell with a third eye in my forehead). She wanted to take some of the length off and confirmed one of my worst fears - I had a V in the back - get rid of it, exorcise it, do what needs to be done! No mullet-like V for me!! She wanted to blend in the layers and give it some life. All of this sounds good to me. She got to the color and I explained no gold (it pulls red) and she went into permanent color, highlights, low lights, strobe lights, traffic lights, yada, yada, yada. This is all a very foreign language to me and I don't speak stylist. I told her as long as I could pull my hair up in a ponytail when I run and my gray was covered, she could do what she wanted. I don't know if she actually heard me because she was still talking. Ahhh, blessed silence when she mixed up the color in another room. She put the color on and then onto the light-things. To say that she was rough is an understatement. I felt that instead of a cut, she was going to just pull my hair out by the roots. Seriously, I thought if I looked up I would see a dominatrix with a whip and tall black boots. She jerked, and pulled, and jerked some more. I am not usually very tender, but man! it hurt! I was so happy as she said, "Last one" and put the final foil on. I was then able to just sit and process. She disappeared for a few minutes and came back in and led me to the shampoo bowl. I caught the unmistakeable smell of cigarette smoke. This is a smell that I truly can no longer stand. Nothing like laying with your head backwards in a porcelin bowl having wet stench fill your nostrils. She cut my hair and got rid of the V. The whole time I was there, she was hocking product and how wonderful their products were. Dear God, it was a 2-hour infomercial and didn't even come with ginsu knives. I do not know why stylists cannot comprehend when I tell them I use very little product, don't know how to use a curling iron, don't want to have to flat iron, and am not able to wield a round brush very well. It took her about 20 more minutes to blow dry and style my hair with a round brush and flat iron. Yep, I'm sure I'll be able to do this at home. NOT! It does look good and I'm interested to see how the cut holds up once I fix it. Because she hurt me so much during the foiling and shampoo, I had already determined that I won't be a repeat client. I love that she wanted to give me business cards to hand out to all my friends. Right now, I'm saving one so that my attorney will know where to send the papers for my damages relating to the whiplash I think I got. If you want a cute cut, good color, and 2 hours of pain, let me know and I'll be happy to give you her card.