Spray and Pray

by Simone on December 13, 2011

For years I’ve seen women come into the salon full of hope. It doesn’t matter which coast they live on or if they are relaxed or stressed. It’s across the board, not mattering if the woman is a super model or a works on the toll way. It’s pretty much the same thing if they live in the city or the countryside. It doesn’t matter if they live in a castle in Europe or a mud hut in Africa. All women want to look beautiful, even the ones who won’t admit it.

another day in the trenches

Most women have an unrealistic fantasy  of what their hair will do for them. So much rides on the haircut, even more on the colour. Most women have this idea that there is a perfect look for them. “Poppycock” I say. Hair and therefore the hair style is a fashion statement, it changes with the fashion, it changes with the inner growth of the woman. Though the Farrah Fawcet look was red hot in the 70’s, a woman wearing that look would be pulled over and cited for a beauty violation in today’s world.

There is hope that the right hair will get Betty a raise, a job, a lover, an upgrade to business class, she’ll place in the race, win the lottery, spend less time in the bathroom in the morning, and cut 10 minutes off her commute to work. The right do will have the effect of a  face-lift, suddenly Betty will be a wizard in the kitchen, recive an engagement ring and always, always there is the pie in the sky fantasy that the right hair will make the butt look smaller.

Do you have any idea the pressure we feel behind the chair?
These types of expectations are what keep us up at night, give us IBS and make us crave Mother’s cookies shaped

yum!

like tiny animals and covered with pink or white icing and sprinkles (or ginger bread cookies shaped like hula girls) We wash them down with Mad Dog 20/20. If it’s a brazilian waxing we’re going to tackle ,we might make the sign of the cross first and throw down a couple Xanax or Valium for extra protection. While a good DO is powerful juju it’s really all about how you ladies work your action. Self expression is key, attitude is everything.

After thirty years behind the chair I still start my day with a prayer: “Please Saint Martin patron saint of hairdressers,  help every client to arrive with enough time to use the loo and still be on time for me, help me to remain patient and upright until the last Betty leaves. Help me to spread joy and possibility and avoid crashing blood sugar, painful feet, legs, hips and shoulders. Help me to create DO’s that will make all Betty’s dreams come true and of foremost importance, keep me safe from clients carrying tasers.”

My main man Marty has consistently delivered the goods. It’s been decades since I came across the taser toting type of gal. She looked normal and acted normal, she was understandably very very nervous and quaking (seeing a new stylist before a huge important event can really get a gal worked into a lather). She was one of many referrals from a dentist who was a happy client.

I finished creating the masterpiece. Frankly I made a sows ear into a silk purse. I loved my job. It was 7am and my day was just getting rolling. I was prepping her hair for a home run blow dry, when Betty leaped from the chair, put both hands around my neck and tried with all her might to choke the life from me.
I admit I was a little taken aback, did this mean she didn’t like it?
Well, I was NOT going to let her make ME run late for the 19 clients who had appointments after her that day. I dropped my blow dryer and calm as could be reached behind me to the coffee maker. I raised the scalding pot over her angelic head, not sure if I should proceed, and like magic Saint Martin intervened and Betty composed herself, grabbed her purse and left the building leaving her clothes behind and wearing only the salon robe. WTF?

I discreetly pulled out the flask from my breast pocket, swallowed a xanax, snuck in a few mothers cookies for good measure. I took a deep cleansing breath, fluffed up my aura with pink, gold and green, swept the hair from the floor and off I went like nothing had happened to make dreams come true for 19 lucky ladies. Even at 7am, on death’s door step, it all boils down to the follicle.

Do you have a story about doing hair or having your hair done? 
If so, i want to hear from you for my Book Project. Please leave your comment and we’ll ‘Tawk”.
If you have a friend who could use a lift today, I hope you’ll pass this on.
-Simone

 

 

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