please be kind to my hair.

Guys, permission to look away now. I’m writing all about hairdressers.

I’ve not had much look with hairdressers since I left home nearly nine years ago. Right before our wedding I got highlights to look super radiant and beautiful, but when I got into natural light I was mortified to see that my hair was orange. I was by myself and called up my mother in a panic. I was due back home a couple of days later and she made an appointment at the salon she used at the time. We had little choice but to have it all coloured dark brown to hide to glow of the orange.

Not long after that I went to a different hairdresser (surprised?), and I was traumatised to have the scariest hairdresser ever. Think cross between Frank Eggelhoff (the wedding planner) from Father of the Bride –

and edward scissorhands.

Needless to say, I felt a tad uncomfortable as he held my head in his hands, shaking it from side to side, and (I am so telling the truth here) repeatedly flung his scissors into the air and catching them like like a bartender with a cocktail shaker. I didn’t go back there.

My hair got pretty long after that and so all was calm and peaceful on the hairfront. I had occasional fringe crises but nothing a bit of time and some hair grips couldn’t solve.

About a year ago I had my hair cut from right down my back to just on my shoulders. I’d not been to this lady before and it was fine. It was an old-school bob style and so quite soon I was ready to go a bit shorter and funkier. I went back the that same lady and it seemed ok. But the next day I just couldn’t seem to do anything with it. Its hard to explain but it just wasn’t right. After a couple of weeks I couldn’t stand it anymore and went to a differerent salon. I explained to the stylist and she got a comb and had a good look through my hair. Her expression moved from confusion to disgust very quickly. She looked up, smiled a little and said that she wasn’t sure what had been done to my hair. She lifted a section from the back so I could see it in the mirror and there were 2-3 inch chunks chopped out from underneath the top layer of hair. She did this with sections all over my head and stopped when she saw I was about to cry. She told me she could fix it but I’d have to go quite short at the back. The girl washing my hair gave me an extra long head massage and by the time I was back in my chair I was feeling better, maybe even optimistic. My hair cut was fantastic. I was so happy I wanted to hug Sammie, who would become trusted protector of my new short hair. Then one day I got a phonecall from the salon to say that Sammie had moved on and got a job at Harvey Nichols in Mancester and would I be happy with a junior stylist . As gutted as a was, I needed my hair cut and so I agreed. The girls didn’t do a bad job but I wasn’t loving it. Consequently I didn’t get my hair cut for five months.

And this leads me to my latest haircutting experience. I took a recommendation from my mother in law and went to a salon not far from where I live. The girl cut Chloe’s hair first. Chloe has never had her hair cut by anyone but me before. To say she was scared would be an understatement. Her eyeballs grew to the size of lemons and for a while I wondered what on earth she thought the hairdresser was going to do to her. Throughout the cut Chloe started to chill out and when she was given an easter egg when she had finished she was thrilled. That will definietly help get her back there. It was my turn next. The problem was I didn’t know what I wanted doing to my hair, to go shorter again or a trim so I could grow it. I babbled a bit with some hand gestures, pointing to various parts of my head and let her get on with it. I told her was a bit nervous, explained why and pleaded with her to be kind to my hair. And it was great. I think. No scissors were thrown around and as far as I can tell there are no significant chunks of hair missing. What relief. Hallelujah.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. rob
    Apr 02, 2010 @ 17:55:06

    it looks beautiful heath…


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