i used to have this hairdresser therapist Jodi. i loved her. from the start of the foil to the end of the ironing, we would talk. about our lives. our men. my husband. her nasty divorce. my ever-expanding brood, her little boy. she was my therapy back then…was way back before i had all of you, yo!
but then i she quit. and i moved on. and then i discovered the beauty of silence at the hairdresser. nothing makes me happier than sitting in a chair and having everyone around me just shut the fuck up for a couple of hours (i’m the same when it comes to massages and manicures and pedicures. not at Argentina, though. when someone’s causing you excruciating pain in your nethers…it’s best to try to talk through the pain. trust me. works at the physio too)
so last night, i was happy to sit in silence and get beautiful. it’s an ugly process, however.
(hot! also…now i know how to use my camera on my phone. sweet!)
happy, of course, until when they were washing my hair, two not-so-happy things happened….
a) the girl who was washing my hair had verylonghair. and at one point, her very long hair fell into my very unsuspecting mouth. could you die? (nightmares, people! attack of the scary black hair!)
b) three. yes three. people came over to inspect the dye job. and to discuss. in hushed whispers. and you know when they are whispering, it can never be good. and you know when she says, “you wanted blond, right?” it can never be good.
cue the panic attack now thanks.
XANAX. i need you!
(holy shit…seriously, when did my boobs get so big?)
all in all, i’m fairly pleased with the results. yes, she butchered the hell out of my bangs. and cut them way too short. and kept trimming and trimming and trimming. i was so nervous she was just going to cut ’em all off….and i would end up all…
but she stopped. and i’m okay with the color too.
and in the future, i will continue to enjoy the silence at the hairdresser, but only after making sure she’s not high.
49