One of the few drawbacks to the lifestyle we have is that I usually have to find a new hair stylist every other time I get my hair cut. My step-daughter, Becky, cut my hair from the time she was in high school, and she did it very well. She owns a shop in the Atlanta area now. She is in such demand that it is hard for me to get an appointment with her when I am in town. I like to brag that she used to cut the hair of one of the ladies who was on the Weather Channel. If she could see what my hair looks like now, she would have a fit. Just like I did.
What I usually do when I need a haircut is to look at other people’s hair when I am in the grocery store, in a restaurant, where ever, and when I see a particularly good hair cut, I ask the woman who does her hair. Now, every woman knows that if someone asks her that question, she must look really good, so I have always gotten a “Why thank you for asking, I get it done at…” But since we are in a rural area, when I have asked that question for the last couple of weeks, it is always someone who cuts hair in her home for her friends and family only. (I guess that should have told me something about the beauty shops around here.)
Just a couple of days ago, I saw the most perfect haircut ever. The woman must have been about 65 years old, with snow-white hair. But the haircut was so modern, so trendy, so, well, just so good of a haircut. She was eating lunch with a friend of hers at a restaurant in town. So, of course, I asked her where she got her hair done. And, she proceeds to tell me it was her friend’s son, who used to work for Paul Mitchell, but he is retired from doing hair and only cuts hair for a few friends and family members now. Crap. I should have taken her picture, but I didn’t think about it until later. Much later. Too much later.
And so, since I was looking rather shaggy, and was in a real need of a haircut, I got out the phone book at the campground office and looked in the yellow pages. The first place I called could see me right away. That should have been a warning, but no, I went ahead with it. The girl who greeted me at the front desk had a nose ring. One nostril was pierced and adorned with the tiniest little stud nose ring, but still, a pierced nose.
She took me back to her lair immediately and asked me how I wanted my hair cut. I told her I usually get it cut short, with bangs, over my ears, and straight across in the back. This is what I have told every hair stylist I have ever been to, and they have managed to cut my hair in a close semblance of how Becky used to cut my hair. So she starts to cut. And she cuts, and cuts some more. When she was done, this is how it looked:
I am not a person who likes to spend a lot of time on my hair. I usually wash, blow dry, and go. I have never used any styling products. Just shampoo and conditioner, never anything else. And I have not cried about the way my hair looked since the last time my mother put a Tony Home Perm in it when I was about 12 years old. But, when I went home this time, my hair was a disaster. Jim said I needed to get a hat. Thanks a lot, big guy, that really makes me feel better.
So, today when we went to Wal-Mart, I stopped in at the hair shop there. I told the girls working there that I had gotten this hair cut yesterday, and it looks really bad to me and what could they suggest. They told me I needed something to make it “stand up”, to give it some body. So, they sold me some Molding Glue. For hair. Mess It Up Styler. Ummm, it was already messed up.
They showed me how to use it, just a dab and run my fingers through it just so, and voila! It does look a little better, so I bought the stuff. $11.00 for a little jar of it. It should last a very long time, with as little hair as I have. So, this is what it looks like now:
Note to self: Never let someone with a pierced nose cut your hair.