November 07, 2008
It's All About My Hair
There are few people I hate -- and pity -- more than the people who work at the kiosks in the malls. What a crappy job that forces them to be so annoyingly intrusive.
Billi and I were at Hawthorne Mall when we were accosted by some guy holding a fancy-schmancy hair straightener. And I was forced to wonder, "Did this guy receive any training before starting this job?"
I mean, he's selling hair straighteners. And he approaches the two people with the most fabulously straight, glossy and perfect hair in the entire mall! What was he thinking?! Clearly, we have no need for his product! Go bother the chicks with the crappy hair, dude; we're on our way to Mrs. Field's.
Speaking of hair, I'm getting mine cut today at 4:15. Glory Hallelujiah! I think it's been about six months since I've gotten so much as a trim because I was so scarred by the whole Locks of Love Incident (as it came to be known).
But now my hair is all fuzzy, dry ends, and I need a trim, lest I be pursued by more hair-straightener-vendors. In fact, I've been thinking for the last month that I need a trim. But I keep putting off calling because I only think of it first thing in the morning, when they're not open. And by the time the salon is open, I'm going about my day and thinking of non-hair-related things. Like purses and lunch and civil rights (thanks to my new job for that little incongruence!).
So I finally called on Tuesday to make an appointment. And all of a sudden, because my hair overheard my plan to shorten it's ranks, I cannot abide my hair one teensy-tiny bit. It has made itself completely heavy and intolerable, and therefore, it has been banished to a ponytail 24/7.
What's that about? On Monday, my hair was fine. Pretty even. Tamable with a small barrette. But now that I know it will soon be looking amazing and healthy and Breck-girl-y, I cannot stand it's current state. I don't even want to look at it. I barely even finished drying it this morning before diving for the rubberbands.
So what changed in that moment before dialing the salon, and the moment after hanging up?
Absolutely nothing. I am a total smacktard. Here endeth the lesson.
Comments
I swear, the moment I make an appointment at the salon, my hair decides that NOW is the time to look absolutely amazing. seriously. for the whole week or two before I see a stylist, my hair is at it's thickest, straightest, glossiest best.
Posted by: heather at November 7, 2008 04:15 PM