Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Rape of the Lock
A couple of days ago I began my spring break. I was actually awake during my morning routine and noticed my scraggly hair in the mirror. Onward to the hairdresser.
Confession time. I am a cheapskate when it comes to haircuts. My half-cousin (is that really a word? I just made it one.) is a hair stylist and he charges upwards of $100 a head. WHOA. I am not so extreme as to get free haircuts from the hair salon school. But I have finally grown up a little and settled on one stylist, so at least there is some consistency in the process. I have had one too many bad experiences in that department. Lack of English skills, lack of communication, lack of haircutting skills, etc.
Unfortunately I forgot that my hair stylist only works afternoons like when I go to visit her after school. I arrived at the store Monday morning and THEN remembered that. Too late, I was already there. I figured, "How bad could this be?" My hairstylist was very friendly. She was also very short. And extremely well-endowed. And lacking support. Those last three combinations make things difficult when trying to wash a patron's hair at the sink.
Also, I left the store smelling of strawberry Bubblelicious and cigarette smoke thanks to the close proximity of my hairdresser. Lesson learned.