Learning to laugh

There are times in my life when I am utterly convinced that somewhere someone is filming what’s happening and at some point, people in some other country will sit down and laugh as my exploits are detailed on a “Candid Camera”-type show.

You couldn’t convince me otherwise. Really.

Like yesterday. Yesterday I had an appointment to get a haircut with the girl who does my hair. Let’s just say that I LOVE getting my hair done, look forward to appointments, and it had been since before Christmas (like December 1) since I had anything done to my hair. It was getting a bit out-of-control, and I needed a haircut. Badly. I had made this appointment a long, long, time ago, and by Tuesday night, I was counting down the hours.

Then, the salon called my yesterday morning. My stylist had a migraine and wouldn’t be in. I could reschedule with Andrea or I could take an open slot of a stylist named Chris who was fairly new to the salon. I took the open slot with Chris because I wanted to get my hair cut! Some of the women I told about this were all concerned that I was going to someone new who hadn’t proven themselves. And while I would have been devastated by a bad haircut, there’s just not really all that much he could mess up with my hair. And if he did, it would eventually grow out.

So, I got to the salon and was welcomed by Chris and this girl who I thought was the new receptionist. She put my coat in the closet and came back to the chair with me so I could talk to Chris about my hair. Yesterday, my hair had been bothersome, so I had pulled it into a ponytail for work. When I took it out to show him what I wanted done, it had the big ponytail line in it and looked horrendous. I think Chris gasped to himself, then calmly asked, “I can’t really tell. Does your hair have any wave to it at all?” I answered in the negative and he asked Candy, the girl I thought was the receptionist to take me back to shampoo my hair.

Guess she’s not the receptionist, I mused to myself as she asked me to sit in the middle shampoo chair and instructed me not to lean back yet. So I’m sitting there and all of the sudden, she lays a towel on my head. I’m sitting there with a towel on my head like a hood. I cast my eyes to the left and right, wondering what in the world she’s doing. No one has ever just randomly stuck a towel on my head when I was getting my hair done. I thought about how I must look to the general public and started laughing to myself. Candy thought I was weird. Finally, she put a cape on my, tucking a side of the towel hood into the neck of the cape, and flipping the towel down. All of that to keep water from getting on my neck.

Next, Candy washed my hair. It was the slowest shampoo I’ve ever had, and I missed the girl who gives neck massages when she washes your hair. Actually, the shampoo took so long that the warm water she’d rinsed my hair with got cold. My hair felt like ice on my head. Finally, she rinsed and conditioned, then took my back to Chris’ chair. She started to comb my hair out using this tiny fine-toothed comb. I knew that was a bad idea, but said nothing, figuring she knew what she was doing. Her first pass through my hair, the fine-toothed comb met a tangle it couldn’t handle and bounced out. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, but seeing that I have thick hair and am not tenderheaded, I really didn’t feel it. I told her it was OK and let her finish combing through my hair.

Chris returned then and started cutting my hair. I expected Candy would go on, but, no, she stood just at Chris’ elbow and watched him cut my hair the entire time. She didn’t ask questions; she didn’t seem overly interested; she just stood there staring. It was weird. I didn’t know if she was training, was some sort of one-person entourage or assistant for Chris, or just didn’t have anything else to do. But it was weird and slightly awkward.

Thankfully, the haircut didn’t take that long and about 30 minutes later, I was on my way home. I think it’s one of the best haircuts I’ve ever gotten except for when I let Andrea cut my hair all off.

But I probably can’t go back to Chris since his chair is right next to my regular stylist’s.

Sigh.